


Charcoal Black and the Fourteen Midgets

by JebbaPeppa



Category: Straight Outta Compton (2015), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Character(s) of Color, Don't expect this to be realistic cause it's not, Dwarves, Ebonics, Gandalf finds this amusing, I'm sad that I can't use the N word in this fic, Kosha is not amused, Minor Language Barrier, Modern Girl in Middle Earth, Other, References to African American culture, Refusal to adjust to fantasy style living, seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2018-12-24 05:11:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 40,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12005730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JebbaPeppa/pseuds/JebbaPeppa
Summary: She'd known all along that pulling up in Jermaine's neighborhood, someone was bound to get shot.Kosha didn't expect that someone to be her.(Modern Girl in Middle Earth. With the most unusual twist  in human history. Wow, such hook.)Edit: I'm working on a series for this too....*blink* Why are you still here? Go look at it, you fuckin' pleb.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. Now that we have that out of the way, there's some behind the scenes exposition for this story that needs to be said. 
> 
> I have spent 3 years of my life searching for a fic like this where someone of color falls into Fantasyland. There is one.... Only one... That I even know exists. And by person of color, I really mean a black person. And while said black person is very enjoyable to read in this person's fic, I've noticed a pattern. 
> 
> 1\. Girl falls into Fantasy World  
> 2\. Girl finds people and blends into Fantasy World  
> 3\. The only culture shock or misunderstandings involve a language barrier, lack of chocolate, or a lack of indoor plumbing.  
> 4\. Girl makes pizza because that is Earth's universal delicacy. For some reason.
> 
> And over all, I'm surprised no one has taken someone from the mafia, the roaring 20s, or someone in the 21st century who's NEVER EVEN SEEEEEN the PJ movies or even HEARD of J. R. R. Tolkien. Someone who doesn't have cable or internet to watch Game of Thrones. Someone, who by rare circumstances, can't even AFFORD to play video games. FOR FUCKS SAKE, SOMEONE WHO ISN'T EVEN IN ANY FANDOMS!! There are a rare few, but my point still stands!! Am I the only black chick in these fandoms? I swear I might be. So now it's my time to shine with my wish fulfilling writing skills. 
> 
> Kosha Thompson! Here we go! Enjoy!!

 

It all started with her sister's boyfriend. Denise always had a taste for gangbangers and thugs. Someone who could pull in their money as fast as possible and pay for her next appointment at the hair salon. And as much as Kosha liked knowing her sister was happy—and the monthly freshness of her maroon-tinted individuals that came with every successful drug dealer—there was always something off about Jermaine.

Denise had claimed love at first sight. She'd met Jermaine down by some swap meet downtown. He'd been selling bootlegged movies and CDs, so, impressed by the passion for songwriting and his dream of producing music he'd expressed to her while she made to purchase a rough copy of the new Chucky movie that had yet to come out later that year, they'd agreed to try...something.

Kosha had met him a year later, after continuously asking about him and gossiping with her mother about where Denise was getting the funds to maintain their wardrobes and keep the fridge full. She couldn't get it out of her mind that something was off about her sister's new lover. And discovering his occupation didn't help her opinion of him. However, she didn't say anything outward. After all, Jermaine hadn't done anything wrong by her at the time, and was nothing but gracious when Denise brought him over.

So catching him in bed with another woman was most definitely a sight to behold.

* * *

 

It wasn't uncommon for a majority of the people in the neighborhood and beyond to have the occasional party. Of course hookah, an obnoxious amount of hennessy and bud light, and bikini clad women were typical in the urban neighborhood party scene. Kosha had no qualms with taking part in certain activities while attending a family friend's graduation party. It was almost like a family reunion if you knew what to look for.

The kids were out in the backyard of whoever owned the house with the pool, lowering the water level with splash wars and constant cannon-balling. Parents were either with them or closely congregated near the grill, where someone's uncle had volunteered to cook up all the sausages, chicken and ribs. Music blasted from the furthermost bedroom window, as close to the backyard party as possible. In kitchens throughout some parts of the cul de sac, moms and grandmas prepared things like various kinds of cobbler (peach being a cultural favorite), beans, Mac n Cheese, the whole whazoo. And in the freshly trimmed front yards, propped up on plastic lounge chairs brought from a garage or some sort, were the old dogs; the men and women who'd aged just early into their 50s and 60s, talking about old times. Laughing, drinking, forgetting about current struggles and just loving the moment. All of this, Kosha thought was the best part growing up where she did. As the music blasted to an ear-pounding volume throughout her cousin Derrick's house, she sat in the living room with her sister and a few of their friends, passing around a half finished roach as they all stewed in their spots surrounding the glass coffee table.  
  
Bree, one of Kosha and Denise's many neighbors and oldest friends, was the first to speak up through the silence that had picked up once everyone started running out of topics to discuss whilst intoxicated. Derrick passed her the roach, she took a hit and boom, her mouth was off like a bullet.

"Ayy, Derrick where'd you get this shit?" The woman said through a puff of the smoke, her voice tight and carefully held lest she break out into a fit of coughs, "I don't smoke much, but I ain't ever got high like this on no regular weed."

The man in question was to Bree's left, hunched over the arm of his couch and smiling almost smugly at her question.

"That's Jermaine's," he replied, "He didn't tell me exactly where it came from, I didn't ask, but he sol' that shit to me earlier this morning. Some kind of special type. Cost me a lot."

"Was worth it," Denise piped in, "Got me all...relaxed." With a big gap-toothed grin, Denise sank into the couch cushions, fluttering her eyes closed into an almost instant sleep despite the volume of the music out back.  
  
"Speaking of Jermaine... " Kosha inched off the couch sightly, catching the eye of little Grady Daryl, not Kosha's friend particularly but still decent to be around. He'd been nursing a can of sprite among their circle, not as high as them most definitely, and probably the most reasonable to question.

"Y'all know where he is?" Kosha asked, stretching as she stood, "I gotta — I gotta talk to 'im about borrowing some money. You know he got my momma a pair of earrings? Don't know if they fake or not but I still think he tryin' a little too hard to stay on her good side if you ask me."

Daryl watched as Kosha shifted her sister's body to be lying horizontally instead of flat out on the cushions. It would probably be better on her neck anyway. "I dunno exactly where he is but I saw him chillin' with some girls in the back before we came in here to smoke.

Bree's faint "Oh damn." As she took another greedy puff fell on deaf ears as a deep sigh flew from Kosha's mouth.

"Saw this coming." She murmured to herself, stepping over Denise's legs as she left for the kitchen.

After Kosha fetched herself a random soda and popped it open, she actually went "Jermaine Hunting."

It wasn't hard to find him and the girl he was with since the man seriously decided to cheat on her sister in Derrick's bathroom. They guy didn't even lock the door!

The girl he was with did at least have the decency to be embarrassed about literally being caught with her pants down, but that didn't save her from the wrath of Denise Thompson, nor was Jermaine exempt from recieving an exploding can of Coca Cola to the face.

In only a matter of minutes after Jermaine left the party in a rage did all the adults know about the incident. The mood was suddenly dampened for the most part and Denise was fuming so violently Kosha thought she could see steam rising from her sister's sweaty hairline. She expected the anger, and she expected Denise to return to the living room and at least talk about it. She should have expected it, but didn't, when Denise grabbed the biggest knife she could find in Derrick's sink and hop into her car, her intentions blaringly obvious.

Kosha had chased them down of course, thanks to Bree wanting to get in on the drama and offering the use of her own ride, Daryl backseat driving as Kosha sat in the passengers seat, tapping her manicured nails against her jeans.

Conversation was not something that occurred during that car ride, and Kosha was thankful for the rush of adrenaline when they pulled into the long driveway that led to Jermaine's house.

It was here that expanded Kosha's initial uneasiness towards the large man. There were spectators left and right, watching amiably as Jermaine and Denise got into each other's faces. A woman who Kosha could only assume was a complete stranger was the only thing between the pair, keeping Denise from outright stabbing her ex-lover in the face.

It was then, when Jermaine spotted the extra company arriving that he said enough was enough and pulled out a glock from the back of his pants.

It was almost a guarantee someone was going to be shot that day.

There was shouting as the crowd began to scatter. It seemed like with every passing second the situation got worse. The gun was being waved around. Threats of committing genocide on her neighborhood were being made. Denise was still trying to stab at Jermaine. At the sight of the gun, Kosha's first and only instinct was to keep that immediate danger away from her sister. Bree and Daryl were out of sight and out of mind. And with her heart nearly leaping out of her chest, feet carrying her without even thinking about it, Kosha managed to get close enough to yank her sister away from Jermaine, a harsh comment towards the gun-toting psychopath about his manhood flying out of her mouth before she even realized it. This apparently was a bad move, and only managed to anger Jermaine further. It wasn't long before he'd aimed the gun at her and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

There was an anguished cry. Then ringing. Very loud ringing. Before Kosha fell to the grass, drowning in the blood rising up from the bullet wound in her neck, she had only one thought.

_Why'd this shit happen today of all days?_

 

* * *

 

Kosha had blacked out once her airway had been completely flooded. So to suddenly wake up submerged in water was a downright shocker. She kicked and paddled with all her might, lungs straining desperately for air. When she surfaced, her inhale turned into a relieved yell, and she paddled to the safety of the shore not long after.

The weight of her braids and clothes were very apparent upon crawling onto the dirt. Water fell from her hair and into her eyes, the already skin-tight denim of her jeans was already so heavy, and not to mention her boots, heeled high and meant possibly for use at a strip club, were completely waterlogged.

Just completely done with everything, she fell flat into the dirt, rolling onto her back so she could catch her breath.

Her hand flew to her throat.

Jermaine had shot her.

She was supposed to be dead. Ascended to heaven. Something.

But here she was, panting in the mud. From what she could tell, she'd spawned in some forest by the looks of it, and it had been nighttime as opposed to the hanging afternoon sun when she "died." The forest was quiet... unnaturally so. The only sound being her racing thoughts of how she could possibly still be alive, yet in a completely different setting.

  
"Oh hell that ain't good, that ain't —" she struggled to sit up, groaning at the popping of her tired joints, "—that ain't good.... "

She sat there gazing at the lake she'd so desperately escaped from. She didn't have to look around to know that she had absolutely no idea where she was. And even if it was the fucking national park she'd still have no idea how to get out. Kosha was at a loss, especially considering she'd just risen from the dead and was alone in the woods. The dead silent woods. If she weren't black she'd probably follow the horror trope and search around for help. Y'know, like how someone with common sense would do.

Instead, the woman pulled off her soaked through boots and stood, knowing that even if she decided to tromp about the dark forest, the length of the heels would only hinder her.

"Maybe when we get some light I'll find my way outta here."

Her socks were wet and she was murderous, but she still managed to find a nice, soft rock to lay her head. Who knew that getting shot, drowning in your own blood, coming back to life and nearly drowning again could take so much out of a person. She was out in minutes.  
  
The shock wore off and the panic set in immediately when she opened her eyes the next morning.


	2. To the Wonderful Wizard We Go

With a start, Kosha sat up from her rock, but immediately regretted both the sudden movement and resting her body on hard stone as her bones—which had already been paining her to the utmost degree—were screaming. She was sore, nauseous and had an aggressive pounding at her temples, but she had to get out of the forest lest she die again and wake up in the Sahara. Lord knows she'd have little to no hope then.  
  
She'd left her phone in her bag. Her bag had been in Bree's car. Since Kosha was a sane human being she didn't bother to worry about it when she jumped to her sister's defense. As a consequence, she was stranded, and couldn't call anyone. The only thing she could do was pull the thong out of her ass and go looking for some help.

In response to the situation, Kosha couldn't help but think that maybe she did die, and she was dumped here. It wasn't unusual for murderers to dispose of the bodies in desolate areas. She wouldn't put it passed Jermaine to do just that. So if he did dump her...

She'd gotten shot in the neck... How did she—?

Kosha scoffed at her own train of thought, forgetting for just a second she was just panicking about being lost in the wilderness with a bunch of potential predators. Sleeping out in the open didn't help much with drying her clothes, but she was dry enough for the circumstances. So, grabbing her boots, she leapt into the brush with the fleeting hope that in the direction she was going there was a popular hiking trail.

* * *

  
Kosha always saw herself as someone who could take care of herself. Manage her finances. Keep her own food on the table.

Well that opinion of herself was slowly fading with each passing second she spent walking around under tree in nothing but her party pants and socks.

Unlike in the night, the forest was alive with noise. Birds were chirping here and there, and there was the ever present rustle of leaves as a breeze rolled in sometime in the middle of her trek. Not saying it helped her anxiety though. She was cursing under her breath, eyes searching for what could not be found. Something, anything that coud indicate people were around.

She walked for hours it seemed. Sometimes she called out, "Is anybody there! I need help! Can somebody call the police!" But she was only met with silence, and an increasing worry that she'd just be left there in the forest to rot away.

Maybe this was hell, or limbo. Some way for the man upstairs to punish her for something she'd done and overlooked. She hadn't gone to church in a very long time, she hadn't prayed for just as long, now seemed like a good time to pick up where she left off. Giving up, she dropped her shoes, hung her head and sat against the nearest tree, her hands clasped in prayer.

"Heavenly father if this isn't some kinda joke you and Peter are playin' on me..." She chuckled humorlessly, "Please... Let me get outta here. I wanna be with my family, God, carry me home safe. I.. I'll stop smoking if.... And I'll get my life together. I'll stop dealing with bangers, I'll get a proper job... I... " with a sigh, she dropped her hands and brought her knees up to her chest, looking around.

Nothing had changed.

She was truly alone.

"Why'd this happen to me?" She groaned, knocking her forehead against her knees in anguish. Maybe if she just sat there life would go on and she'd simply fade out of existence. Yes... That sounded about right. She'd stay right there. If the prayer worked, so be it. If it didn't... Maybe it was meant to be.

Of course God worked in mysterious ways. So if scaring the ever living shit out of her by tossing some poor creature about somewhere out of sight was His idea, He was a genius. With a scream, Kosha leapt to her feet and fled, not as keen on wasting away as she was a few seconds ago.

She ran as far as she could, as fast as she could. The woman distantly remembered her boots were still beside the tree when she took off, but that was no matter now. Maybe she'd go back for them. She highly doubted her resolve... Her socked feet carried her into a thicket, where branches caught into her hair, snagged on her clothes and even smacked her in the face. One twig was not particularly kind to her this day, and smacked her square in the eyes as she ran passed. Kosha cried out at the sharp pain but kept on running, foolishly clasping a hand over her eyes as she blinked away the pain. Of course this was a dumb idea. Running through a dense gathering of trees required a little visual navigation. So, blinded and frightened into near mindlessness, it was no surprise when Kosha ran smack dab into a wall.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph!!" She cried as the force of the collision knocked on her arse. She gave up on life for the second time that day and collapsed onto her back, groaning in pain.

  
"My—oh dear. Are you alright?"

"Fuck no!" She wanted to say, but was too stunned to form words at the moment, so it came out instead as a low whine. She hadn't expected the voice.

Against her better judgment, Kosha let the stranger pry her hands away from her eyes, and it was revealed that a grey blob was her salvation. She blinked, and her vision wobbled, but didn't improve. A hand was waving in front of her face now. Unnerved and confused, she just laid there.

"My dear," the blob said, ever so gently grasping at her shoulder, "can you stand?"

She could indeed stand, and the blob helped her do so. By the sound of its voice and the thick callouses she'd felt on its hands as it helped her to her feet, the blob was most distinctly male, very old and very male.

"I can't see," Kosha muttered, she squeezed at the man's wrist to emphasize, reaching out with her other hand to grasp at a very impressive amount of beard. Very old...

The old man gave a soft huff of laugher as she dug her fingers into his facial hair, "Yes, by all means, fondle my beard. May I know your name, miss?" He asked.

That's when Kosha stopped and looked the man up and down—as best she could anyways—to note that he was very tall. And just because he was out here and could help her, did not mean he was friendly. She'd learned from experience that some people were willing to take advantage of the vulnerable without batting an eyelash. This is what prompted her to drop her hands and take a step back, to the obvious confusion of the man, as his amused little chortles suddenly halted.

"I can't see." She repeated, "Everything's blurry and I need help."

The man hummed an agreeing hum. "Yes, yes, alright then. I will help you with your eyesight, and then you may tell me what a Woman would be doing all the way out here."

At this, Kosha snorted, "Unless you got an eye doctor on speed dial, there ain't much you can do for me right now."

The man didn't respond to that, he simply placed a hand on her head, a polite warning to hold still was offered when she tensed at the contact. It was only when the man started chanting gibberish under his breath that she felt running away right then and there would be the best option.

Something dangerous compelled her to stay. It was like a pull on her soul. It was warm and comforting, battling with the straight up uneasiness that had welled up within her very being during the past few minutes.

In a sudden flash, her vision was clear, and she could see a wrinkled face smiling down at her. Her wide-eyed grimace was unintentional, but it stayed stuck on her face nevertheless.

"Your name, my dear?"

Instead of replying, Kosha dug the heels of her palms into her eyes and blinked rapidly. Whatever mumbo jumbo he was spewing had somehow fixed her eyes. And now that she got a good look at the old man patiently waiting for her to answer his question—was that a wizard hat?  
  
"Y... Y-ou first. And none of that 'My dear' shit, a'ight? Sir." She'd added the _sir_ as quickly as she could. If her momma taught her anything, it was always address your elders with ' _sir_ ' and ' _ma'am_ ' if you knew what was good for you. No matter how crazy the elder.

Where the old man was previously bent over as close as he could respectfully get, he now leaned back, stroked his beard with the hand that was not cradling a walking stick almost taller than him, and uttered a small, "Curious indeed." before nodding like he'd suddenly decided something and bowing his head toward the confused woman. Childhood memories tempted her to return the greeting with a curtsey, but playing princess wasn't exactly her thing now.

"I am known by many names. But you may simply call me Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey."

"Uhuh...." Clearly skeptical about his introduction, Kosha held out her hand, noticing the quick glance Gandalf shot it before taking the cue and clasping her forearm. Not exactly what she was going for but it worked. "My name's Kosha, Thompson.... Kosha Thompson."

"Kosha Thompson." Gandalf smiled like hearing her name had brought joy to the world. He withdrew his hand and leaned against his walking stick, his posture aging him a few millennia. Kosha knew she probably didn't know the half of it. "Now that we know each other, walk with me. What brings a woman such as yourself this far west?"

Gandalf had already begun walking and Kosha had no choice but to follow. "Are you with some kinda group? I really needtuh find a phone or somethin'."

"Interesting. What happened to you Miss Thompson?"

"Uhm... My sister's boyfriend shot me. Bullet went into my neck. Next thing I know I'm here." She took a broad step in front of Gandalf, stopping man in his tracks. "For all I know I pulled some X-Men kinda shit after they dumped my body. I didn't think Denise would let anyone dump me in some lake far away like she did but it happened so.... Where am I?"

Gandalf was giving her a strange look, prompting Kosha to scoff.

"You can't say shit about me being crazy wit' yo Dumbledore lookin' ass! You got a phone, sir? I really need to call the police or someone who could help me."

Gandalf smiled. He smiled a smile that made it seem like he was trying a little too hard to come off as friendly as it met his eyes a little too easily. So he thought she was insane. Perfect.

"I'm not sure I will be able to help you in that regard, Miss. But we find ourselves very close to Hobbiton. There I may be able to find you temporary lodgings."

"What, like a hotel?"

"Think more like an old friend. He will take you in and make sure you're comfortable, I'm sure of it."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry Kosha. Gandalf got yo numbuh.


	3. Home Invasion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UNBETA'D, RAW, FRESH
> 
> THIS CHAPTER WAS KICKING MY ASS
> 
> ALSO shout out to RabidFangirlMutterings for overshadowing even me in the enthusiasm department. Seriously like... Woah... Keep on living up to that name bruh!

* * *

 

Gandalf's offer was met with a little hesitance, naturally.

"Nah, nah. I ain't trynna stay at nobody's house. I gotta go back to...to....Hold up. Where are we right now?"

"The Shire."

"Okay, I assume that's a small part of it. Bigger."

"Eriador."

"Bigger..."

"Middle Earth."

"Yeah? Bigger?"

"Arda."

"We're not getting anywhere are we? I ain't in Kansas anymore am I Toto?"

"Kansas is very far, it seems. For I have never heard of it."

"I wasn't... Fuck it... I ain't got shit to lose at this point."

"Then you will travel with me to Hobbiton?"

"You can just point me to the nearest phone and I'll be out of your life. Forever."

The old man shook his head, "No, that won't do. You must come with me. Or would you rather find someone else to help you? Dressed strangely and speaking of strange things, I doubt anyone in Bree would take you in."

Kosha scoffed, wanting to be offended as she was just called strange by an old man in a tall pointy hat and a dress. But on the other hand, his words held a fragment of truth. After all, she was shoeless, wearing fuzzy Elmo socks with skinny jeans and a halter top. Smacking her lips, she crossed her arms and popped her hip, causing Gandalf to lift a questioning eyebrow.

"You playin'. You are seriously playin' with me right now..." The last part she muttered more to herself, shaking her head in disbelief, "Sir... Please, I just wanna go home to my mom and sister. I don't know how I ended up here. You obviously ain't got a phone and I'm startin' to question whether or not Hobbiton is someone's sex dungeon—" at Gandalf's indignant scoff, Kosha held up her hand, cutting off whatever he was going to say after, "I'm serious! With all respect, sir, I heard about that human trafficking shit and I ain't takin' no chances. No–now I ain't accusin' you of nothin' but just... I'm not trynna be nobody's slave. So if that's what you trynna do—take me off to someone's house and get yo' money— I'm just letting you know, I spent twenty-three years in the hood, and twelve of those years I attended public school, so I know how to disarm you or use one of these fallen branches to beat the shit out of you if I have to."

For a long moment, Gandalf just stared at her, confusion sprouting about his wrinkled features. Then, as if what she said had been the least serious thing to come out of her mouth, Gandalf laughed. Kosha's squawk of "Excuse me, I'm serious!" Went unnoticed as he nearly laughed himself to tears.

"You have a fire about you, Miss Thompson! I understand your concerns, and they have been thoroughly cataloged. I can assure you I will do nothing of the sort. Just come with me, come with me–" Gandalf shuffled passed her, and continued on walking down the path.

With that, Kosha suddenly remembered how exhausted she was. And while she would sport some very unlfattering scabs later on in the day thanks to that horrifically dense thicket, she'd rather sleep in a real bed before she decided to go crazy about her appearance. Maybe going with Gandalf wasn't a bad idea. She didn't know where she was after all, how would she get around without him? He seemed kind enough, and was most likely the only person on the planet willing to pick up a panicked and now deplorably unkempt woman in the woods. She also still had to ask how in the hell he'd fixed her potential blindness.

That's right! He fixed her eyes!

And he was dressed like some kind of wizard.

Yeah, maybe she'd go with him. He was probably her best option, if not her only option. If he wasn't an arms dealer, a slave trader or a rapist, then people who were those things stayed away from weird old people. And Gandalf was most definitely weird and old.

* * *

 

With all the possible ways of transportation, Kosha did not in the slightest expect Gandalf's ride to be a wagon. A horse-drawn wagon. She wasn't expecting a Ferrari, but seriously? If the mosquitos hadn't already gotten to her last night she probably would have wailed.

Together they sat at the front. Gandalf had offered to let Kosha chill out in the bed of the wagon, as it had been revealed it would be a day or three until they reached their destination. Kosha had declined, and sat firmly by Gandalf's side throughout the times of light.

She had asked him once they set off how he had cured the blurriness in her eyes. Some kind of secret pressure point? An indirect treatment? A spell? She didn't think too hard about it when Gandalf laughed at her again and actually said yes to the last one. He either was bonkers, she was dreaming, or Kosha was hallucinating, funny thing is, she kind of believed him.

At night, Kosha fitfully slept in the back of the wagon, she rested her head on a lumpy sack that had nested itself in the corner. Gandalf, somehow determined to get Kosha to this friend of his, hardly slept at all. For all she knew he stopped to rest in the seat long after she had fallen asleep. It didn't matter much, as when she woke up both the day after they'd set off and the day after that, he was sitting upright in the seat, humming idly to himself like he'd spent the nights on a tempur pedic.

It was the third day when Kosha began seeing the locals, and the locals began seeing her, that she got an eyeful in the form of a group of children.

She was sitting beside her wizard figure, munching on a stale piece of bread she'd pilfered from Gandalf after he pulled it from his robe pocket. Kosha was beyond hungry and that sack she slept on was full of absolutely nothing she wanted to eat then and there. So that was her best bet, and she hadn't realized before then she hadn't eaten in nearly four days. All the excitement must've had to have chased her appetite away. To hell with how chewy the bread was. It was heaven for a starving woman.

The rolling hills were something that had a lasting novelty. Considering how much green was set in one spot, she'd be gazing about all doe-eyed for a good few more days before she got sick of it. Growing up in an area filled with nothing but run down buildings and dead grass did that to a person she supposed. And she couldn't get over how fresh the air smelled and felt around her.

For a time—she'd been ignoring it, but since her eyes strayed every which way she couldn't help but notice—she kept catching sight of these little people. There was nothing extraordinary about them besides the fact that all of them she'd seen were barefoot and just as curious about her as she was of them. None of them approached, however, and so she said nothing to them. Coupled with the fact that Southern California (her area anyways) didn't have such a lush and green plot of land, this proved all the more that she was not where she was hoping she was.

"Gandalf, " she nudged the wizard with her elbow, but she didn't turn to see if he'd acknowledged her. "Those the local residents? Does everybody here look and dress like that?"

"They are Hobbits, my dear. Of course."

Hobbits... The word registered with a small pang of familiarity. She might've heard the word somewhere on TV or something. She wouldn't be surprised if she did.

They passed a group of unshodden kids, who, at the sight of Gandalf or her, Kosha would never know, broke out into cheers and began chasing after the wagon. Gandalf waved them and the older lady who'd come out of her...very circular door... to round them up good morning. Kosha was left dumbstruck when the woman responded with a huff but waved back anyway, the shaking of her head communicated her real feelings toward the disruption.

"Ooo, she rude for that. Do all hobbits got an attitude?" Kosha inquired as she leaned back into the seat.

Gandalf chuckled, adjusting himself as well. "Hobbits are a race of quiet and comfort. Excitement is a rare thing here in the Shire. Which is why I have brought you here. While you gather yourself, my hope is for you to stay for a time."

"With your friend?"

"Yes."

At this, Kosha crossed her arms, he was a vague one, this Gandalf, "What are you gonna be doin' while I'm holed up with your friend? I'm assuming he's a hobbit?"

"You're correct in your assumption, Miss Thompson. I will be looking into your problem, I'm not so old to be hard of hearing. You are clearly not of this world... Or you are suffering a head injury... Regardless, I have decided to help you."

"I ain't mad... You ain't gonna tell me my gracious host's name?"

Gandalf remained silent.

"Does he know you're bringing me to his house?"

He didn't answer.

Kosha threw her hands up in a defeated gesture.

"Can you explain this one thing to me though? The rest of this ride will be silent if you answer this one question."

"What is it, my dear?"

"Why do these people got some big ass feet? Why don't they got shoes, Gandalf? Why are their feet so damn _big_? I can get passed the Colonial American getup, but why the feet?"

* * *

 

On their way up the road, Kosha had seen an impressive amount of gardens, and more of those doors that had no business being round. Gandalf had explained that those were entrances to homes (in case she couldn't figure that out herself), triggering even more confusion on Kosha's part. There were plenty of hobbits, peeking out of their windows and doors or just outright staring at the wagon's passengers and whispering to each other. It was almost as chaotic as the party she'd left.

The eyes had followed them all the way to a street called Bagshot Row. The sign was almost as tall as she was sitting in the wagon, which confused Kosha, since she was sure this community of midgets was too short to read the white lettering all the way up there. A slight jerk of the wagon as it stopped halted that thought. Gandalf made his way out of the seat; he was helping her down soon after.

Her socks hit the dirt, and she groaned, having forgot once again that she'd left her boots by that tree.

"Here we are," Gandalf said, guiding her by the small of her back towards the front gate. "This is Bag End, home to who I hope will be your host while I'm gone."

At that, Kosha stiffened and turned to look at the old bastard with a whip of her braids. "So you didn't tell him anything! I'm set up to be stayin' at someone's house who don't even know I'm here? What if he says no? Where you gon' take me then, huh? Someone's barn!?"

Gandalf opened his mouth to respond–with a smile on is his face at that–but was interrupted by an alarmed shout coming distinctly from the direction of the house. The pair of them turned to look, and saw a very confused hobbit wiping his dirtied hands with a washcloth.

"Who are you? And what business do you have drawing the eyes of half the Shire to Master Bilbo's door?"

Kosha turned back to Gandalf, wondering just about the same thing. The guy didn't even look ashamed as he straightened himself and met the hobbit's gaze head on.

"Is the master in?" He asked.

The hobbit shook his head, "You just missed 'im. Went out on one of his walks, he did. I'm just his gardener, but I'll take a message." Despite his words, the hobbit had this look about him—it was probably how low his eyebrows were—that said maybe he was just being polite.

"Ah, there is no need for that, " Gandalf said, puffing up on his stick. "I have brought him a guest, you see. We have arranged for her to have an extended visit until further notice. I will leave her here with you to wait until he returns."

"Bitch—what!? So you just gonna leave?" Kosha rounded on Gandalf just as he turned to do just that. "I thought we had a connection, man!"

For a split second Kosha could've sworn she saw a bit of feeling in that wrinkled face of his, but it was gone just a quickly.

"Miss Thompson, I will return, that is a guarantee. However, there are other things that have come to my attention as of late, it is simply unfortunate that issues have come about the same time I met you. This is the only solution I have for you right this moment." That look came back to his face as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Believe me when I say that your time will come to pass. Just be patient."  
  
With that, he quickly ascended into the wagon once more. But Kosha was having none of that. She ran up to the vehicle, frightening the horse with her rapid approach, and grabbed Gandalf by one of his unnecessarily big sleeves just as he settled his ass into the seat.

"If you're really just gonna leave me here... with these strangers... with no way to contact you.... do me this one favor."

The old man did not seem affronted at her words, "Yes, Miss Thompson? If it is within reason I will do what I can."

"My shoes."

"Your shoes?"

With a sigh, Kosha dropped her hand and rested it on her hip instead. "Yeah. I had these really cute Zanotti boots, but I took them off because the heels were too thin and too high to keep me standing upright in the mud. I left 'em sitting by a tree just before I ran into you. I'd appreciate it if you could get 'em for me. They cost me nearly an arm and a leg, that's too much for a sista to just leave 'em there."

Gandalf nodded, "I will do my best to find them for you."

"Thank you."

And then he left.

—————

So, dropped off like a disobedient mutt, Kosha had nothing to do but associate herself with the gardener. Holman was his name, and while wary of her, was polite all the same. He had her sit on the bench at the front, while he fetched a beverage for her. It was poor manners to leave a waiting guest without anything to drink in the hot sun, he'd told her.

It's not like Kosha was complaining. She was just a little weirded out by the way he spent a full minute watching her drink and scowling at her socks before he left to go do whatever he'd been doing before she and Gandalf turned up, his parting words having been something along the lines of "Let me know if you need more water." That left her alone with her thoughts— her wretched thoughts, and the occasional curious hobbit that was brave enough to pass by the big black woman with resting bitch face and smeared eyeliner.

She wasn't even there for 2 hours before Bilbo finally decided to show up.

"Excuse me? Who... Who are you?" He asked, flicking open the lock on the gate and entering without so much as a "hello."

At least she thought this was Bilbo. Master Bilbo and Master Baggins Holman had called him in their brief conversation. She was given no description of him, but by the way he walked through the gate and towards her comparingly large form with only a smidgen of fear in his posture, he most definitely was the owner of the house.

"Gandalf, old guy, taller than me, carryin' a stick, dressed in grey. He dropped me off. Said you could help me."

Bilbo stopped in his approach at the name. His face contorted into an array of emotions, confusion, surprise, anger, other things Kosha couldn't name. And his big nose wrinkled adorably as he sniffed in irritation. "Gandalf you said?"

"Yeah."

"Dropped you off?" The hobbit looked around, then back at her, his eyebrows furrowed tightly over his eyes, "Here?" He pointed to the cobblestone under his feet.

"Yup." Kosha took a sip from her mug.

Just as it looked like the poor guy was about to have an aneurysm, he dropped the bag he'd been holding against his hip, setting his hands at his waist as he took a few steps forward. "Again, who are you?"

"Kosha Thompson." The cup was set down again, she refused to move from the seat when Bilbo shot her a look of pure fury. She was hoping it wasn't aimed at her, especially for her, she wouldn't want to have to fight a man who was three feet tall. "Gandalf said you'd let me stay here until he came back. I don't think he told you he'd be bringing me up here."

"Oh what gave it away? Where did he find you? Why did he bring you to my smial of all places?!"

"You could've asked him, but the dude just left."

Thus began the foot tapping.

"So what on earth could I help you with? You wish to... to stay in my home, for what?"

This had Kosha on her feet. Bilbo, obviously intimidated, was almost instantly cowed. It wasn't Kosha's intention to completely dominate all authority to be had in Bilbo's front yard, it just happened.

"Listen, Mister... _**sir**_ , I don't have a damn clue what I'm doing here. I got shot,  woke up here. I have absolutely no idea why the hell my sister's boyfriend dumped me some miles away from a colony of Amish little people, but he did, I'm somehow alive, and that weird old man said he knew about a place for me to stay while he figured shit out so I took his offer. Now, you can kick me out, or point me somewhere else, but all I know is that a police station ain't within a hundred miles from here or I woulda been filin' a report by now, I ain't got no shoes, and the old women here won't think once about lettin' me in they house. If you let me stay, cool, I know how to clean up after myself and I probably won't be here most of the time."

Slowly, Bilbo slipped out of his tizzy and blinked up at her.

"How long did Gandalf say he was going to be gone?"

 


	4. Spending Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no eye for pacing! I throw caution to the wind! 
> 
> Fuck it! Timeskips up the ass! 
> 
> RabidFangirlMutterings, better step up your game homie, cuz Moira_Starsong, another wonderful author, is taking the lead. Holy shit!

Kosha expected absolutely nothing from Bilbo Baggins. Considering his attitude towards her, and her attitude towards him, they would not be fast friends... They probably wouldn't even be friends at all.

After her outburst, Bilbo seemed to speak a bit more sparingly around her, but his sass did not fall short, claiming she had the manners of a freshly circumsized goblin. But even then, he still offered to help her, not by letting her in his house, don't misunderstand, which had Kosha only a tad offended. By some odd miracle, he had another option. Though it required a bit of traveling on foot. And Bilbo, ever the gentlehobbit, took one look at Kosha and decided he would not let a lady, however uncivilized, walk around with her jiggly bits hanging about.

Still in her socks and extremely revealing halter top, Bilbo thought it was best to drape a table cloth over her body, muttering to himself about why in the world Gandalf the Grey would let her walk around like she was. Looking back at how the women Kosha had seen walking around were dressed, she must've practically been naked. It's not like she had much going on in the chest area, but still...

With some fumbling around each other for a good twenty minutes, they were off to a destination Kosha had to ask about only once before the hobbit politely replied.

"I'm taking you to an inn," he'd said, tugging her along, "Hopefully you can stay there until Gandalf gets back."

"I know for a fact that ain't free."

"I'll pay for it!"

"I don't know about that, Mr. Baggins, he looked like he was gonna be gone for a long time. And I know stayin' at an inn and such, that shit collects interest."

Bilbo ignored her, and they continued on.

  
The Green Dragon didn't want her. Or as Bilbo put it, the owner thought it best to have Kosha stay with him in his smial instead of spending all of his money to keep her room reserved. Kosha wasn't sure of how currency worked around the Shire, but Bilbo's annoyance at that fact and his confidence in his ability to pay for her room spoke volumes about his wealth. Or maybe it didn't, and he was just that desperate to keep her out of his house and also appease Gandalf. Kosha's tolerance for his attitude was steadily decreasing every time he opened his mouth to complain. It's not like she didn't understand that a person would be annoyed as fuck to have a stranger dropped off at their property with the expectation of housing them for an unknown amount of time. But Kosha also had experience with these kinds of things. A friend of hers had once gotten in trouble with the feds—most notably for something that happened accidentally. When asked, she and her mom gladly housed and fed them while the situation blew over. Afterwards, random chores no one had bothered with had suddenly been done, such were the ways of hiding potential criminals. Which is why Kosha was concerned about how Bilbo didn't ask very many questions, complained a bit, and _then_  allowed her to stay.

Kosha expected absolutely nothing from Bilbo Baggins, but when he valiantly offered to make tea and check around later that day for some new clothes for her, she thought that maybe she could like him. Probably.

When the time came for 'nature's call', all thought of liking Bilbo and how he lived was flushed right down the toilet.

* * *

 

It had been a week since Bilbo had conceded to Gandalf's wishes. To pull her weight, a confrontation Bilbo had brought on with a little meekness—as Kosha was a tad bit on the loud and angry side, and maybe a little too passionate about her opinions on crocheting—he'd shown her where the laundry was kept and where in Hobbiton to wash them, how to use a washboard, etc. Chores were a thing that seemed to come natural to Kosha. She was careful with and around his dishware, she was swift with a broom. Even her habit of knocking her head against the chandeliers was slowly disappearing with each passing day. He would have swooned if not for his irritation at the situation.... And the fact that his solitude had been so rudely interrupted by this hulking woman and that thrice-damned wizard. Oh and how he mourned his poor respectability! It must have been completely doused in the mud now with this new decelopment.

A week and a half into this adventure. No clothing in the general vicinity would fit her. Kosha's thicker and larger body would not fit well in hobbit clothing, especially because of her height. Bree was too far away for an impromptu shopping trip—and Bilbo was still wary about letting her outside in those too-tight trousers and child's shirt. He also didn't trust her enough to just leave her in the smial by herself, however good she was at cleaning. He was at an impasse.

He couldn't keep these concerns to himself, however. Kosha's daily half-nakedness was doing something to his sanity, and the only person who seemed to not care much about the situation was Holman Greenhand. So he brought his concerns to him.

"Why, Mister Bilbo, if I didn't need to tend the garden I would go for ya." Holman said in response to Bilbo's moaning. "Miss Thompson isn't a bad sort, I would help if I could."

This had Bilbo mentally kicking himself, as it was the most obvious solution. Of course Holman would help! He wasn't just his gardener, but a friend as well. Bilbo would gladly send him off to retrieve his quarry. It's not like he couldn't tell the difference between a weed and a clover. Their gardens would survive a few days...

  
On the flip side, getting Kosha's measurements was one of the easiest and hardest things Bilbo Baggins had to do in his life.

Kosha's initial response was laid back and understanding. She had no objection to finally getting to wear something else. But the realization that she had no idea of her exact measurements resulted in having to actually measure her.

Holman was sent off by a hobbit blushing up to the tips of his ears and a woman crouching in the smial's doorway with a robe sitting tightly against her torso and nothing else.

* * *

  
  
When the garments were finally delivered almost two weeks later, Kosha had groaned at the dresses, as they came to cover her ankles and she was bound to trip on them constantly... and the shoes she had requested at the door could have actually been described as sacks. Not to mention she had no socks but the ones on her feet. Bilbo had no socks. Thus began the evening knitting lessons. Her nails had gotten in the way during the first night as they sat near the crackling fire, which had Bilbo, genuinely curious, asking about them.

"They're white," he'd stated oh so eloquently, "and you've grown them so long. That's hardly practical," Bilbo clicked his tongue at her, "As a beginner, you'll need to trim them."

Considering how acrylic nails were either tough as shit or as fragile as her hair on a dry spell, since her nails had survived the washboard, they weren't going anywhere anytime soon.

"I see where you're comin' from... But these aren't actually mine... If you know what I'm saying," She muttered, absently picking at the nail on her thumb, "Some Vietnamese lady put 'em in. Had some bomb ass adhesive put on 'em, too. So they ain't clipping or coming off any time soon."

Confused, Bilbo motioned for her to give him her hand for a closer look. He turned her hand over and stared at her fingers for a long time before letting go. "So you have nails that aren't yours stuck to your fingers?"

"Basically. Yeah."

By the look on his face, Bilbo still didn't seem to understand, and Kosha didn't have the words to explain. She was thankful when he simply nodded with acceptance.

"That's very.... interesting. Still, we have to find a way to work around this. As dreadful as they are, socks are needed for your feet, aren't they?"

"Yeah, if you don't want me fillin' the house up with that althete's foot odor."

Bilbo wrinkled his nose at that and picked up his needles. Kosha followed suit, her yarn so far in very bad shape from both the hindrance of her nails and lack of skill.

"Maybe if you... " Bilbo leaned forward, reaching out to adjust Kosha's fingers so her too-long nails didn't get in the way of the yarn.

"Don't know if it'll work. It won't hurt to try–"

Kosha quickly set down her knitting needles and got up from her seat on the rug, not only undoing all his work to fix her form but also startling him.

"Where are you going?" He called as she headed for the western side of the smial.

"I'm about to blow up yo' bathroom!"

"Blow up my... What?"

After a long evening of trial an error, he received his answer later that night in the form of the most horrible smell he had ever smelled in his restroom.

* * *

 

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. It had been so long that Kosha finally began to get over The Hobbit Meal Plan as well as adjusting herself to walk around Bag End. But there was still no sign of Gandalf. Not even a peep of gossip about his return.

The gossip, however, was flourishing in regards to Bilbo Baggins and the exotic Woman he'd settled down with. At first, Bilbo was scandalized, inconsolable even, but Kosha had somehow shimmied her way into the short list of people he allowed to comfort him on matters such as this, even if she was the cause.

"For a family unit, hobbits sure talk a lotta shit."

The two of them had settled in the sitting room, Bilbo to brood over a book, and Kosha to practice her knitting after sweeping the hall a dozen times to her satisfaction. Her nails had grown out considerably and were starting to ache, so she had decided to chew them off. She'd accomplished this with as much success as one could dealing with fake nails if the crumby state of her real nails were anything to go by.

If she wasn't eating good, wanting for almost nothing by basic standards, and was oddly entertained by building a very crude sock and confusing Bilbo with her accent, she'd say she almost missed home. Albeit, the bathroom situation was a fiasco she dreaded every time her bowels cried for release, and she missed watching music videos and fights on YouTube. Maybe it was how simple everything was. It was both unnerving and comforting to think about, as she could never find true peace anywhere else. But as soon as she's dropped here, she suddenly feels more productive, less like she was grasping at straws trying to find something to latch on to. Jewelry, clothes, the most likes on the photos of her filtered makeup on Facebook. Drama was something she was well versed in, so with Bilbo's troubles came her thankfulness for something familiar. Despite her feelings towards this new setup, it was unrealistic for boredom NOT to occur, after all.

"Everyone has relatives who poke into your business," Bilbo grumbled. "And when things like this happen... I saw it coming a mile away."

"Yet you still let me stay. Y'know, after trynna pass me over to someone else."

Kosha set her work down onto her lap and watched Bilbo visibly cringe with an amused smirk on her face.

"It's rude to turn away a guest without any other options. I was surprised. Yes, that's it. You surprised me with your sudden popping up at my door! Which brings the question I should have asked weeks ago," Bilbo closed his book, leaned towards her in his chair and pointed an accusing finger at her. "Are you on the run? Did Gandalf find you alone on the side of the road? It's all very curious if you ask me."

"First of all, that's two questions, homeboy. Second of all, no. Third of all, Kinda. Fourth of all–" The quip on her tongue died a quick death, as when she leaned forward, she'd suddenly noticed an itch on her scalp. When she went to scratch it, if her pigment had allowed, it would have been apparent to Bilbo that all the blood drained from her face.

" **Fuck**!" She shouted, slamming her head into the back of her armchair.

Bilbo, startled, reeked back and set his book on the end table beside him. "What? Is it–is it your–?"

"No. It's not that.... Bilbo, I've had this hair in for months. I gotta take it out and wash my hair. Can you help me?"

"Take it out...? Is that hair not yours?"

"Yeah, uhm–" Kosha stood from her seat, fingering at the small braids still attached to her head, "It's horse hair I think... "

"Is nothing on your body real?" Bilbo cried, "Next you'll be telling me you've somehow magically widened your hips with how unnaturally large they are!"

Any other time, Kosha would have most likely gotten mad at this, but she was too worried about all the lint buildup and breakage that was bound to happen once she removed the braids.

Crossing her arms, she shot Bilbo a look. "That was fuckin' rude. And if you have to know, I did magically widen my hips. It's called stress eating. You don't get cheeks like mine by just sitting on yo' ass."

Bilbo's palm met his face.

Eventually, as a team, they'd managed to track down a pair of scissors and a metal comb to pick the fake hair out. Then, dropping their original plan to stay inside on a sunny day, they sat out under the tree on top of Bag End, the pair of them both expressing mutual feelings on this odd tradition of her people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if you don't like this chapter, was expecting dwarves— yadda yadda yadda. I'm sorry. We'll get there eventually. You must be patient! 
> 
> (Is secretly terrified of having to write that many characters)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was in a weird place with this one. I couldn't get passed the part where Bilbo and Kosha are talking on top of Bag End. For the longest time I was just coming back to the rough draft adding one word after word. Just one or two words. One sentence if I was lucky. And now here I am, with a chapter I'm only partially satisfied with. But I just wanted to get it out because making people wait for things sucks balls.

It took two days to completely rid Kosha's hair of those wretched lint-gatherers, she and Bilbo were rewarded with a small pile of gold and silver clasps that had nearly been melded into the hair. To think she'd left these and the fake hair in was a feat all in itself. Now all that was left on her head was a giant poof, riddled with tightly packed balls of said lint. It would take a lot of oil and a lot of combing to get her hair clear of the stuff.

"See, I love my hair, but it's a nappy ass mess. You got anything to moisturize my monster poof?"

"I believe I do."

Kosha was the proud owner of cared for and lengthy hair. She'd spent all her life avoiding chemicals and pressing just to achieve what young black girls dreamed of achieving. Braids were her friends when she didn't particularly feel like dealing with it for a month or two, but the use of them was only occasional. Now however, as she'd spent almost half a year with her hair clumped up and compact, she was surprised it hadn't decided to mat up on her and completely break when she so carefully combed out the lint.

After providing her with a meagre hair care solution, Bilbo had watched Kosha with no small amount of fascination as she applied the hair oil and combed through the tough tresses with skillful hands. He watched as with each strand freed, her hair got bigger, as did the gathering strands on the comb. How could someone have so much hair?

"You do this often, then?" He asked, his eyes following her fingers as she raked them through a particularly dirty cluster.

Kosha straightened, sucking in air through her teeth and looking off into the distance as if recalling a painful memory. "Not like this. When I was younger, though... Woo! Lemme tell you, I thought keepin' yo braids in for longer than two months was completely healthy. I would've gotten dreads if not for all the touch ups you gotta get with new-growth."

The hobbit looked to her with a curious knit to his brow. "I didn't understand half of that." He said.

"'Course you didn't," the woman dropped the comb and began shaking the tension out of her hands. Her progress so far was excellent, the entire front section of her large hair was free from its lint confines. Dirty, but free. "You only wash ya' hair with soap."

Bilbo scoffed, fishing his pipe from the bag of things he'd fetched from inside not long after Kosha had told him they'd be outdoors for quite a while after the second day. There was no time like then to have a smoke.  
  
"I believe I care for my hair just about as much as you would. No need to make a sport out of it."  
  
After a moment or two, Bilbo was puffing at his pipe, and Kosha was back to combing through the next section of lint.

Almost out of nowhere, Bilbo blurted, "You know, if I didn't have eyes, I would have taken you for a dwarf."

Kosha stopped, lowering her arms at Bilbo's words. She took the time to curve her mouth into a frown as she squinted at him.

Taking this look as offense, Bilbo quickly corrected himself, "I associate nothing bad, I assure you. I've never seen a dwarf myself, mind, I've only read about them and seen crude illustrations. They have massive waves of hair, just like yours I would say. And beards just as large to go with them."

"So just because my hair is big–"

"–No, you're misunderstanding me–" the hobbit sighed, tapping the lip of his pipe against his chin, "Never mind. I didn't say anything."

"Nuh-uh, you finna get yo ass walked if you don't finish that sentence." Kosha said this so calmy Bilbo was unsure those were the exact words that came out of her mouth.

"Excuse me–walked?"

"Yeah," she exclaimed, puffing up in an exaggerated manner. "Imma walk yo ass!"

Bilbo couldn't help the snort that escaped, quickly covering it up with a cough, just in case she was actually being serious. The words strung together were so obsurd he was pretty sure the threat wasn't meant to be taken seriously.  
  
"What–what does that mean?"

Just as quickly as she straightened, Kosha deflated, returning to her task.  
  
"I don't know. It's something my grandad used to say to me and my sister. Probably my dad, too, when he was a kid."

"Oh yes, of course..." Bilbo hadn't put much thought into his guest having a family. He didn't know why, exactly, it just never came to mind. It was most probably due to the fact that he'd never asked and Kosha never brought up her family until now. Come to think of it, neither of them spoke to each other about the subject. The only interactions regarding relatives he could think of were when she asked if the portaits hanging above the hearth were his parents, and Bilbo's answer was a simple "Yes, " nothing else had been discussed about it. And that one instance where the two of them had been observing Hobbiton from Bag End's windows and she'd spotted the infamous Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, dressed in one of her absurdly bright dresses, headed straight for his hobbit hole. It was a day they both discovered they had something in common: the habit of ignoring unpleasant relatives that pounded on your door.

With that on his mind, Bilbo made to resolve his ignorance about his guest, though the past few days had been a lengthy and detailed lesson in hair alone. He was curious enough now to avoid the fear of rejection... for the most part.

"You don't speak much of them."

"Who? My family? There ain't much to talk about..." Another flick of her wrist and a strand was free, "Well, nothing you'd understand," she amended.

It had been the gateway to another comfortable silence. It stung a little, to have his interest rejected, but no matter, she may open up in time. Or, Bilbo could stultify her with stories about his own relatives, boring her enough to have her share a story or two of her own. It hadn't been a tactic he made use of lately, having been avoiding social activities since the arrival of Kosha Thompson, but he was convinced Yule would be an inevitability. He couldn't avoid that even if he wanted to.

Bilbo and Kosha sat in permanent silence that time around. It didn't take long for her to finish combing out her hair, much to Bilbo's surprise. Adding to his shock, the excessive mass of hair that resulted from the grooming was four times the size of Kosha's head. Bigger than any illustration of a dwarf mane he had ever seen. Definitely bigger than what any hobbit lass could boast with the best hair care. No wonder she kept it tamed within horse hair, it must have been a laborous chore to simply wash it!

Little words were exchanged when they disposed of the hair, both fake and shed. Kosha was reluctant to let go of the metal clasps that had been stuck in her mighty tresses, so Bilbo provided her with a jar to keep them in, much to her joy. She had immediately gone to store them somewhere in her room before grabbing the hair oil he'd also graciously loaned her and headed to the washroom. Concerned for the future state of his tub, Bilbo followed her there, stopping at the round doorway after she had thrown open the door and practically skipped inside.

"You don't need any help handling that do you?" He asked, his fingers secretly crossed in the hope that she would refuse his offer.

Kosha was knelt beside the tub, hunching over it as she filled a bucket full of the cold water inside it. Once she set the bucket down at her side and dried her hands in her poof, she turned to him, smiling wide as if getting to wash her hair was the most exciting thing.

"I can wash my hair by myself. But–" she took both of her hands and fisted them deep into her jungle of hair, "brushin' it out and getting it into a ponytail is gonna require more than one set of hands." At Bilbo's horrified expression, she laughed aloud and added, "You don't have to. I ain't holdin' you at gunpoint. It'd be appreciated though."

Bilbo sighed, defeated. It's how he spent the past few days. What was one more evening caring for someone else's hair?

* * *

 

When Kosha first arrived, she'd had no interest going any further than well... Bag End. Only to do laundry, and even then, she would always keep to herself and return quickly as soon as she was done. Bilbo had noticed this, and he didn't blame her. Getting stared at as much as she did must have been draining. When she could get away with it, all her time was spent exploring the vast expanse of his smial. She had accused him of being "loaded" and continued on with examining his silverware. He kept a close eye on her after that, but to his pleasant surprise, she never pocketed anything, or touched anything she herself deemed "too expensive-looking."

It had been nearly a year since then, and while her fascination with his home hadn't dwindled very much (she was still amazed at his having a fireplace and being able to sit by it), Kosha began showing signs of restlessness. She claimed that she was fine not going further than the garden, but her constant habit of gazing out into the horizon betrayed her true feelings. Bilbo was not unfamiliar with this habit, though his was born more from the childish desire for adventure rather than potential homesickness. She had never asked after Gandalf, as neither of them knew of his whereabouts or wellbeing, she was smart enough to acknowledge this. So Bilbo had decided, taking her shopping wouldn't hurt. He had gone alone plenty of times before when the pantry was running dry, but now seemed to be a good time for her company. It's not as if he was hiding her away (was he?), a bit of fresh air and the chatter of a crowd of hobbits would do her good... No matter the subject of the chatter.

Of course they were stared at. Some hobbits went quiet as they passed, but most were polite enough to just simply glance their fill and keep silent. Bilbo was not concerned much about this. He'd faced the brunt of their curiousity many trips beforehand: "I'd do well to steal a look at your guest, Mister Baggins, we hobbits tend to gossip, and everyone's saying she comes from far east." "Who is she, Mister Baggins? Has the wizard brought to you a wanted criminal to hide away?" "Mister Bilbo, why doesn't she come to the market with you? A recluse is she? Even moreso than you, sir?"

And the children were worse... Their questions were ruthless, shameless. Their youth left them uncensored with their curiosity. Their lack of awareness and sensibility left fauntlings with the boundless courage to ask Bilbo whatever they wanted about about his guest, including the question of whether or not their relationship had tipped over the bridge of platonicism. The hobbit tried hard to stamp down that scandalized boiling that had begun inside him. Nevertheless, he kept himself in check, just barely, calmly dismissing the claims when asked of their credibility.

Now, as they walked up to a stand, suspiciously empty of customers now that they'd gotten closer, they were left undisturbed. Bilbo was sure that was only because the novelty of a new face, having been shut inside and hidden away for almost an entire year, had attracted their attention, and they wanted to view the exotic display with as little interference as possible. A small part of Bilbo seethed at that notion. He could only imagine what Kosha was thinking. Having never been surrounded by so many of the smaller folk, she had claimed, it might have just been an impartial opinion, then, as she was oggling his fellow hobbits just as much as they were oggling her.  
  
"Good morning!" Said the clerk, a little too enthusiastically, "What can I do for ya?"

"Good morning, yes, um... " Bilbo tapped his trousers impatiently. The two of them had agreed on a simple dinner that evening, and Bilbo only had to shop for his usual meals with the added smaller portions Kosha was so fond of. They hadn't agreed on anything in particular, just something simple, and this stand specifically seemed to specialize in fruits and vegetables. A salad, maybe? His guest appreciated his salads. Healthy, but still appetizing, she had praised.

He looked to Kosha, who lit up at the unspoken permission. Well, not so much as 'lit up' as she merely gave him a falsely coy smile and immediately went to having the clerk bag various sets of fruit and only a thimble's full of the listed vegetables. Once the woman was satisfied, Bilbo aquired his own selection, paid, and they were on to the next stand.

Kosha carried the majority of the produce back to Bag End, much to Bilbo's dismay. He had a cart after all.

* * *

 

  
After witnessing the calmer reality of leaving Bilbo's home, Kosha was found outside more often than she was previously. Many of the adult hobbits, caught within their fear of all things different, did not open very many opportunities to interact with Kosha, save for a few curious Took relatives (of course), and most notably the children. They had once tried using her body as a playground, climbing her and hanging from her arms as if she were a walking tree. Bilbo had tried at first to cull this behavior, but Kosha did not mind it. In fact, whenever the opportunity came, the children would invite her to play, as if she were a child herself, and Miss Thompson almost never refused.

The days passed this way, peacefully. Bilbo Baggins was no longer counting the days when Gandalf would swoop in and take her back to where she had come from. He simply accepted her presence, and most undoubtedly her companionship. He hadn't realized how quiet and lonely life in his oversized hobbit hole had been until Kosha came to live within it. Instead of the old routine: Tea, alone time, reading, a brief visit to the market for that bundle of yarn he'd been admiring the previous week, more tea, some more reading, avoid relatives, yadda yadda–he now had someone to speak to, and rouse him before he fell asleep in his armchair, which usually had the result of a stiff neck and sore back.

Unsurprisingly, Kosha's hair had become an active player in their interactions. She always seemed so sure of how to deal with it, but was always asking Bilbo for assistance.

"Bilbo, my dude, help a sista out with her ponytail."

"Bilbo, we ran out of hair oil."

"Bilbo, do you know how to do French braids?"

"Hey, Could you help me trim my ends?"

Actually, it was one such morning when Kosha found herself seated on the floor between Bilbo's legs as he fumbled with a leather thong, trying to gather her hair into an orderly tied poof at the top of her head as she had requested, when a knock came to the door.

The hobbit quickly finished up, and the two of them quickly got to their feet to check the windows and see who it was.

The pair was shocked to see a tall figure, clad in gray, and a very familiar hat atop his withered head.

Bilbo ran to the door and thrust it open, a hard glare on his face, a stark contrast to the vaguely amused smile Gandalf seemed to wear in that moment as he stared down at the hobbit.

"Gandalf?" Bilbo questioned, his voice low.

The wizard straightened, adjusting the sack he had slung over his shoulder just as Kosha came in to join Bilbo in the entrance hall. His smile widened, brightening his wrinkled features in a way that made him seem a tad younger. He nodded in Kosha's direction, noting the flabbergasted look on her face.

"Good morning!" He greeted, a cheerful lilt to his voice that was just about unexpected.

"What are you doing here, now?" Bilbo spat, "We almost expected you to never come back."

At that, Gandalf wilted, but it was only noticeable to those who were paying extra attention, as the smile still stuck to his face.

"Now if I weren't in such a bright mood I might reprimand you, Bilbo Baggins! Will you not invite me in?"

Bilbo seemed to freeze for a moment, almost like a physical malfucntion that prevented him from answering right away. So Kosha did it for him.

"Yeah, yeah, come in." Said Kosha, nudging Bilbo aside from the door with her hip. He squawked in indignation but he was left ignored. "Is that mine? I see the outline of a very specific pair of shoes in that bag."

Gandalf shuffled his way through the door, setting said bag down onto the floor, but away from Kosha, who found this more annoying than anything.

The wizard turned his attention to her, the smile behind his moustache a bit softer now, "You may retrieve it later, but I am here for a very specific purpose."

Gaining his resolve, Bilbo shoved Kosha's ass away from his face, he now flushed with embarrassment and anger as he stared up at the two Big Folk taking up all the space and authority in his home, like he was simply chopped liver. Kosha stumbled aside at his pushing her away, and she returned the favor with a similar look of fury, but he paid no mind, only held his malice for the meddling wizard in front of him. "And what could that purpose possibly be? To do something productive, I hope."

He wasn't sure if his words affected Gandalf, he did take note of how one of his bushy eyebrows twitched. That had to count for something. His "almost satisfaction" was short-lived, however, with Gandalf's next words.

"I'm looking for someone, or–" Gandalf spared a nod towards Kosha. "–two someones... To share in an adventure."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to draw Kosha. I actually tried a couple times. My hand is just an uncooperative asshole who doesn't do what I tell it. UGH! 
> 
> P. S. 
> 
> I love comments. Comments give me LYYYYYYFE!


	6. The Reckoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hello. How is your life? Oh? Really? Well mine is just as confusing and fucked up, thanks for asking.

"A little late for that."

"I wasn't aware there was a designated timetable."

As Gandalf was ushered into the parlour by your very own–and very pissed– Master Baggins, Kosha shut the door, set Gandalf's hat on the rack and began tidying up the foyer. She could hear her housemate and houseguest speaking from there. However, her attention was drawn towards the light trace of mud the wizard had brought in. A flicker of irritation sparked in her chest, as she had just swept the floors and had been very proud of her efficiency. Now she was stuck muttering grievous profanities as she scrubbed at the dirtied floor with an incomplete muffler she had ruined in her attempts at knitting it around a month ago. In fact, she had a plethora of tangled and dirtied yarn projects she'd given up on stored in a basket within the foyer. She gave them a use or two, and wiping up stains was one of the more handy ones.

When she was finished, she set the soiled scarf outside beside the door. She entered the parlour just as Bilbo had begun raving about how anything more exciting than taking in exotic strangers was downright undesirable.

Gandalf was not fazed. In fact, he didn't show any emotion towards Bilbo's tirade, which seemed to anger the hobbit further. He had this calculating look about him, Kosha could see. She'd seen that look plenty of times on her mother, or even wore it herself as she caught Denise in a lie, or those times–most commonly–when her sights had been trained on Jermaine. Gandalf was judging something about Bilbo that Kosha sadly could not see.

"You have changed, and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins. Though I'd have to say, I didn't expect to get passed the door. I underestimated your company." As he said this, he shot a wink towards Kosha, who just stood in the archway, not knowing what to say so just staying quiet.

"Well, my _company_ has been here for nearly a year and a half with no word from you. You can't just drop someone off wherever you like and leave them without telling anyone! I have my own affairs, I have a life! I can't just put it on hold to take care of someone else!"

"But you did."

Bilbo physically stuttered at these words, blinking up at Gandalf in bewilderment before he managed to correct himself and plow on. "When Miss Thompson came to my door claiming to have met Gandalf, the wandering wizard who made the most brilliant fireworks I had ever seen in my youth, I wasn't sure what to think! I didn't even know you were still in business!"  
  
Now was the time for Gandalf to look offended, "And where else should I be?"

Realization kicked in, and Bilbo almost choked on his words. He pointed this way and that, scrambling for something to amend what was just implied. Only then did Kosha figure what the hobbit had meant... Gandalf must've been sporting the decrepit look for a long time.

Bilbo ended up not finding the proper words, so he simply clamped his mouth shut and crossed his arms. Gandalf mimicked the movement by tucking his walking stick under his arm.

"I am pleased to find you remember something about me. Even if it's only my fireworks... " he sighed, hunching over slightly as he moved away from the hobbit and more towards the archway, "Then it is decided. It will be very good for you–" he stopped to lay a gentle hand on Kosha's shoulder, sharing with her a wry smile she couldn't help but halfheartedly return. "–and most amusing for me," then he turned and grinned brightly at the fuming hobbit standing in the middle of the parlour, "I shall inform the others."

He made it as far as the hat rack (which seemed to only be for Gandalf's hat) before Bilbo's string of 'no's, increasing in volume and ferocity, caught up with him.

"We don't want any adventures here! Not today! Not tomorrow! Not ever!" And, as much as Bilbo's tone communicated he wanted nothing more than to have the grey wizard out of his house, as Gandalf pulled on his hat, Bilbo tugged roughly at his sleeve. "Wait... Before you leave... What about Kosha? You brought her here, and the reason for it was to give her a place to stay 'temporarily'. Have you not found her another residence or resolved whatever has brought her here in the first place?"

Having followed both them and the conversation, Kosha knelt to retrieve the bag Gandalf had discarded on the floor. "I was wonderin' that too. But if I'm lookin' at things right. You haven't."

Gandalf nodded, "You're correct. I haven't. If it does any good, however, I have found myself dealing with matters similar to yours, Miss Thompson. I have consulted with others regarding this phenomenon, don't lose hope. There may be a solution."  
  
The woman paused, and gathered the sack closely to her bosom. "Others?" She asked, "Other people like me?" Her fingers were digging into the bag, and she wasn't aware of it, but the elation that bubbled up her throat and behind her eyeballs gave Kosha an uncontrollable tremor.

This reaction did not go unnoticed, for Gandalf gave a soft chuckle as he said, "Yes, my dear. A few, in fact. A man even seemed to recognize me. "You're Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey!" He cried. Well, he recognized me after confusing me with someone else. Such an amusing lad, that one." He concluded the recollection with a fond smile.

"Tell me, Gandalf, do these people you're speaking of have anything to do with this 'adventure' you're proposing?"

"Not at all, Master Baggins!" Gandalf said, leaving Kosha to stare awestruck at the door as he addressed the hobbit. "Not at all. Completely unrelated, I should say. So now, I must be off."

Without another word, Gandalf removed himself from the hobbit hole.

Bilbo called after him as he made his way down the hill, repeating his ill attitude towards adventures before throwing the door closed with a hard thud. Knowing his words went ignored, Kosha laughed at Bilbo's glibness.

The incident was forgotten about for the most part later on that day, though Kosha looked to still be in a daze even then. After guiding her back into the sitting room, she came back to herself, but only a smidge, and made a show of opening and proudly showing off Gandalf's gift.

Bilbo openly marvelled, yet waxed poetic about the uselessness of high-heeled boots, especially ones as sharp as hers.

"Shoes in general seem like dreadful contraptions. But–but those! How? Who would 'want' to walk around in those?"

"Strippers, ho's, me." The smile in Kosha's voice was just as obvious as the smile itself. Her boots were wrapped and laced snugly around her legs as she wiggled her ankles in them. They seemed preserved well, almost as if Gandalf had found them right after he left Hobbiton and kept them up. They weren't worn, the leather was near to shining, and they fit just as comfortably as Kosha remembered. Just the feel of them on her feet seemed to strike her with giddiness. Now, the hobbit hole was a little on the short-ceiling side, so Kosha was unable to stand, as she was already a giant in Bilbo's eyes, but that didn't seem to bother her much, as she settled with sitting in her chair with her skirt and bloomers hiked up to admire her legs. Bilbo was very pointedly averting his eyes away from her thighs. Instead, he focused on something that most definitely was cause for concern, the heels.

"Aside from how impractical they are, they also look like they're on the dangerous side."

Kosha lifted her right leg and hooked her fingers over the heel, flicking a nail over the flat bottom of it. "I'm pretty sure you could poke somebody's eye out with it. Saw it happen once. That's why I don't fuck with drag queens."

He wasn't even going to ask.

"W-Well... Take those off, the rest of the day which is– " he craned his neck to get a look out of the window. "We only have a few more hours of light... I believe I have to go out for some shopping."

"Oh shit," said Kosha, already moving to unzip her boots. "Did we blow through the pantry again?"

"No, of course not." Bilbo scoffed, popping his joints as he stood. "I'm just craving a bit of fish, that's all."

Kosha scrunched her nose. She remembered the first time Bilbo tried feeding her fish, not knowing she was allergic to certain kinds of sea food and it didn't seem like shellfish was as common as finned fish in the Shire. Now 'that' was an adventure.

"You have fun with that, lil' homie... I'll just make myself a sandwich for dinner."

"Don't be ridiculous, I can make you something. I've been cooking for you for almost two years now. I don't plan on stopping just because I want fish and you don't."

"Fix me a peach cobbler then. I'll make my sandwich, eat my sandwich, take a nap, then wake up in time to eat it with you."

Bilbo considered it, acting like he was conflicted and the prospect of a peach cobbler didn't actually make his stomach growl.

"Fine, then. Waste your stomach on a sandwich."

"Bro, what is wit' ya'll and being offended about food? I honestly don't understand it."

Bilbo was already making his way out of the room to leave. Kosha said nothing else, and with a small smile on her face, tucked her boots beside her chair and made her way to the kitchen.

* * *

 

Bilbo returned home with a basket full of ingredients. His inital idea of making a simple cobbler alongside his fish was drowned out by reckless spending. He'd purchased a freshly baked pie, multiple spices for the simple pleasure of having them (he wasn't sure if he could avoid using them though), and an extra helping of what for and why not. The peaches were a bonus, as he'd forgotten those were things a peach cobbler required as he was shopping. He wasn't exactly sure how he ended up with all those other things, since, due to an encounter with a conveniently shaped sack, Bilbo was in a bit of an anxious rush to get home.

Now that he was home, Bag End was silent. Kosha made good on her assurance she was going to take a nap. Not that she was noisy or anything, but she did have a tendency to sing or shuffle around when it was too quiet. And with a hobbit's precise hearing, it was easy to pinpoint her location indoors. She'd put out the hearth, most likely to replace the flames in her own within the guest room, and her shoes were tucked away off in the corner.

He scurried to the kitchen, careful of the thinness of the smial's walls as he did so.

He got to work almost immediately after putting his extra purchases away and dressing a bit more comfortably in his nightclothes and robe, and while his fish would've been fried and on the plate in a matter of minutes, it would still be a while before he finished up dessert, so he began the cobbler first.

In Bilbo's personal opinion, he preffered it cold, and Kosha preferred the treat either way. A win-win for both of them, so he would set it out to cool once it was done.  
  
It had only been an hour or two, it must have taken him longer than expected to walk to and from the market, so by the time it finished cooling, a crisp night sky had descended upon the Shire. He decided that the aroma of food should wake up his housemate at this hour, it would be good for her to sleep in. Running around all day doing errands and avoiding people took a lot out of you, and it showed, Bilbo knew from experience.

After washing up, he sat down at the table, ready to dig into his fish and as content as could be, when with an anguished pang to Bilbo's gut, the doorbell rang. 

He hadn't been expecting visitors, especially at the current hour. Blast it. It was almost too obvious... He had this niggling feeling it had something to do with a certain meddler.

Feeling a tad aggrivated at the disruption, he stood from the table, mournfully glancing at his dish before going to answer the door.

Worst mistake of his life.

* * *

 

Kosha woke to the sound of... of people. There were people within the hobbit hole. A lot of people. There was also the distinct smell of food. That meant Bilbo must have changed his mind and prepared more than originally intended, then invited some folks over. Which, since Kosha liked to say she knew Bilbo Baggins, was very out of character. He took visitors when they came, yes, but rarely did he go out of his way to host a party.

To say she was surprised was a massive understatement.

She sat up in the bed, idly rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She noted that these guests of Bilbo's were particularly loud, like they didn't know someone else in the house was trying to get some sleep, and found herself a bit irritated by this. Once she managed to disentangle herself from the blanket and get her feet on the floor, she sprang up and wobbled to the door. The only primping she had managed as she made her way into the hall was to fix her hair into a semi-neat poof, one side was a bit flattened while the other was even more tangled than usual, sticking out in an uneven ball, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. Unfortunately, her post-sleep haze was still attempting to fade, and she ran into a few walls, even bumping her head in the doorway as she made her way out of her room.

The closer she got to the commotion, the more annoyed she became. It got to the point where she had to stop and smack the sleep out, resulting in her coming face to face with a trail of outside dirtiness on the floor... The floor she had so diligently cleaned earlier that day.

"Oh hell naw..."

It didn't matter if she was only in a shift, whoever was being obnoxiously loud and fucking up the house was gonna see her tonight! And she was gonna give them a piece of her mind. And by the the time she made it near the dining room, where she could now hear the distressed noises of Bilbo, she had passed a broken vase, cloaks and weapons strewn about the entrance, and the desecrated remains of one of Bilbo's decorative anique chairs. Kosha herself didn't understand how a chair could be decorative and mocked Bilbo about it on more than one occasion. But in the end, she respected that it shouldn't be sit on like her host had asked. The fact that it was broken now and so carelessly tossed had her boiling.

"That's so disrespectful..."

She passed more household carnage, slowly taking it in before she took a peek into the dining room.

She gaped.

There were a bunch of men sitting in an array of chairs at the dining table, Gandalf included. But, the party table hadn't been in there last she checked. Bilbo had stored it in the back room after a bunch of his relatives came over for the most recent gathering. Kosha wasn't sure Bilbo supervised or even requested the moving of this table into the dining hall. Which left her to wonder what happened to the smaller one that had been in there before.

The entire pantry was sitting in Thanksgiving fashion in front of these overly hairy men, not even properly prepared, but they were eating it anyway! Food was being thrown about as they shouted and sang. Kosha was not at all okay with this, so how was Bilbo faring?

She found him staring angrily into the pantry, stewing there with one of the angriest looks she'd seen since she first met him. Bilbo wasn't exactly the most strong-spoken hobbit unless it was a battle of wits against his more belligerent of relatives, and this entire situation must have spiralled out of his control. She was surprised she'd slept through the beginnings of it.

She was at his side in an instant. "Bilbo, please tell me you invited these people, and let them break that chair. I don't wanna havetuh discipline some grown ass men."

"Dwarves."

"What?"

"Dwarves!" Bilbo shouted, "These blasted dwarves have torn the house apart—have you 'seen' the pantry?" He gesticulated furiously towards the empty shelves. "Oh—And if you know what's good for you, pee outside from now on!"  
  
Kosha wasn't surprised at his outburst, in fact, it only fueled the fire. Hell hath no fury on a woman who just cleaned up the house.

"Alright, just stay here. Some 'dwarves' are about to get they asses checked."

She made her way back to the dining room, this time not hesitating in making her presence known.

"Hey! Excuse me!"

Immediately, the laughter and loud voices died into a soft murmur, shock and awe plastered on each bearded face as one by one, they processed the woman in the room.

In her shift. With bedhead.

Looking especially cross.

Kosha was taken aback at first by having so many eyes on her. She didn't expect the rowdy guests to suddenly quiet down like they did... Perhaps this sausage party wasn't expecting a woman to be crashing it. All except Gandalf, of course, who merely smiled at her.

"Miss Kosha, my dear? Did we wake you?"

Instead of answering directly, she wildly gestured around the the dining room, then beyond the archway behind her and said, "Tell me why... this house... looks like y'all came in here and killed John Wick's puppy? Why does it look like the next Madea's Halloween movie in the parlour? I shouldn't even have to say it, but fuckin' Kirby came in and sucked up the entire goddamn pantry then shit it out on this table! Gandalf—" she rounded on the wizard with a look that could burn down villages. "—who the fuck are these fools? And why'd you let them fuck up the house!?" Gandalf opened his mouth to provide the woman with some underhanded response, but she didn't wait for it, instead bellowing, "Get off your rude ASSES and clean up before somethin' bad happens to y'all!"

She directed a heated look towards Gandalf, then swept it across the table towards an especially terrified dwarf who if she had to say it, looked scrawnier than the rest, emphasizing the deer-in-headlights look he was going for, which brought her a morbid kind of satisfaction.

The silence stretched for a few more seconds, then a large dwarf, balding, and the least confused-looking out of all of them carefully stood from his chair. When no one followed him, he shouted, "Get on up lads! Ye heard the lady!"

The rest followed without question.

Kosha stepped aside to let them pass, puffing up with pride at the murmured apologies she recieved. The dwarves that appeared to be younger looked exceptionally chastised by her clumsy reprimand.

  
"It was that easy?"

Kosha jumped, not having expected Bilbo to teleport at her side. When she gathered herself, she offered a soft smile his way and nodded. "It was that easy... I guess. "

   

* * *

 

 "They destroyed the cobbler..."

While the sound of hustle and bustle– albeit a more productive version of it– returned throughout the house, Kosha took a moment with Bilbo to mourn the loss of their highly anticipated peach cobbler. Bilbo recounted the horrific moment one of their home invaders grabbed the cobbler and dug into it without so much as a by your leave, a few others not far behind him. The story prompted Kosha to let out a strained wail. A certain Grey wizard, who hadn't moved from his seat, was red with amusement as he watched the spectacle.

"I don't wanna say I hate anybody after I just met them, barely. But fuck..."

"Don't mind their antics, Miss Thompson, 'tis only their way."

"Oh, so it's their way to disturb every fucking object in another person's home? A'ight. Makes sense."

"I won't be one to justify the destruction of chairs no one sits on and scuffs on the floor, but I would like to add, that upon the ending of their celebration, and the arrival of our final guest, this hobbit hole would have been cleaned and made spotless come morning."

Bilbo shifted uneasily in his seat. "F-Final guest? You aren't saying there's more?"

"Just one, Master Baggins. All will be explained in due time," with the resulting silence, he reached over and plucked an empty plate from the table, turning it over in his hand like it was the most fascinating thing in the room. Bilbo didn't hesitate when it came to narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

Not keen on listening to Bilbo bitch to Gandalf for another round, Kosha left the dining hall. And for all she knew, the pair didn't acknowledge she got up from the table.

Her ears led her to a hyperactive pair of these strange little men that she appreciated had at least a little talent regarding context clues. The basket harboring her bitter failures had been pleasantly raided, and they were using them to scrub the hard clumps and smears of dirt off Belladonna Baggins's glory box and wiping clean the walls that were literally splattered with ale (she'd eventually figure out how that happened). It pleased her to know these people weren't complete idiots.

She quietly stood off to the side and watched as two of these "dwarves," casually argued about who was doing what.

"You could try to help me, Fili, mud's stuck on this box like a troll's attached to its stink."

"You shouldn't have put it there in the first place." Fili snorted, scrubbing a bit faster at the wall like there was a particularly stubborn stain there.

Much to Kosha's dismay, they hadn't any water around to help with loosening up the grime, which shot her assumption at their intelligence down like a crestfallen duck. The 'Fili' fella shouldn't have been having much trouble, as beverages such as juice and ale washed out of walls, but still...

The other one huffed, a noise that said nothing other than, "Whatever," and he continued to scrub. Though Kosha could only see the back of his head, which was very pleasing to her eyes indeed, she could tell his face communicated his attitude just as much as his body language did; from the tension in his shoulders, to the force of which he was applying to his scrubbing.

She sighed, causing the two dwarves to whip around in the direction of the noise. At the sight of her, both of them stood, the dark-haired one going out of his way to toss his rag-scarf onto the box when he met Kosha's eye.

"Hi," she said plainly, making a point of not going any further than that.

The three of them stood there awkwardly, staring at each other for a good three seconds before something strange happened. She wasn't expecting it when the blonde one, Fili, bowed and said, "Fili, at your service," with all the seriousness of a child that had just been lectured on the importance of manners.

The other one, whose name she was now curious to learn, lagged a bit when Fili introduced himself. He fumbled for a second, probably making an effort to find the words to speak towards this woman who was three times their size and still hopping mad from their encounter in the dining room.

"Eh–Kili... Also at your service." He managed, grimacing at the unimpressed look on Kosha's face.

Ah, so that was the name. And they rhymed.

Creative.

"You better be. See, Y'all might think trashin' somebody house is fun, and I'm all for a house party, but damn. Y'all need Jesus."

They didn't have time to show their confusion at her words, as Kosha was already shuffling away.

"I'll come back with a bucket. Don't smear anything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever since I started thinking about this fic with my own self-absorbed mini fandom inside my head, I've been having weird ass dreams regarding this story. At first it was innocent, like me being in a polyamorous relationship with Halle Berry and Thorin. (They bought me shoes! (ノ*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)) then it just went bat-shit insane. Now Kosha is rescuing the Company from zombie vampires! Setting them free from the confines of their orcish bunkbed as she teams up with Gandalf and his convertible in high speed chase sequences with the zombie vamp queen while at the same time turning back time to find Kili because for some reason he didn't get in the car and no one knows where he is! 
> 
> #FIND KILI
> 
> I need help.


	7. Fuck You and Your Hat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. I'm technically a father now. I couldn't update because babe. 
> 
> I also was having block
> 
> I was scurred because I was also feeling a bit unsatisfied with my writing. 
> 
> K thank.

 

It was a bit self explanatory when Kosha returned with a bucket filled with soapy water dangling in her hands and a rag slung over her shoulder. When she came into their view, whatever Fili and Kili had been discussing quickly faded into silence and they were left staring at her, waiting to be directed. It was a pattern with these people, whenever she walked past, they would stop and look at her like she was some anomaly that spat in their drink. It was just about the same as when she first arrived at this odd little place that Gandalf referred to as Arda. Though the fascination here was more of a far away thing than people openly approaching you and touching your hair like your entire bubble of personal space was a petting zoo.

The woman rolled her eyes and set the bucket besides the glory box before taking the rag and tossing it in the water. Then, she gathered the atrocities that was her knitting and dumped those in there as well. After a little sloshing and squeezing the water out of the cloth, she found Kili's hand and placed the rag into it.

Without any prompting, Fili dove for the bucket and wrung the water from one of the raggedy scarves before making short work of the dried splatters on the wall. All the while his companion recieved a hard stare and a guiding hand when it came to the mud crusted stubbornly on the front edge of the glory box.

"There's a mat outside for you to wipe your shoes. I hope you knew that."

"I didn't. My apologies, ma'am."

An impatient hum later, and Kosha was practically pressed flush against Kili as she leaned over to guide his hand in scrubbing over and around the ever-fading scuff. However, her eyes were trained on his heavy brow, the way he pointedly avoided even glancing in her direction, and most notably, the constant bobbing of his adam's apple.

With a snort, she decided he'd had enough and released his hand. She stood, wiping her hands on the shift draped over her knees. Kili continued on without her and that was good enough for her. She didn't acknowledge Fili much, though she knew he was there, having finished his job and gawking at her like there weren't other things to do in the house. Like fixing that chair, for example. Someone was going to have to fix that chair.

"Who broke the chair in the hallway over there?" She asked, not to Fili or Kili particularly, but loud enough for everyone to hear and potentially answer. The two in front of her burst into a mix of stuttering and "Uhs" at her question, but were saved from having to make up any sort of excuse when one of their fellows swaggered in with the chair in question, crudely repaired, but whole, in his hands.

"Excuse me, miss. Bofur, at your service," he said with a tip of his head, "I want to apologize on behalf of my brother, Bombur. He's the roundest of us, you see, but he couldn't have known the chair to be such a delicate little thing. Left it in the hall since it got in the way. Had plans to repair it later. And now it's repaired. All I need to know now is where it goes. So– where does it go?"

Kosha peered at the chair in Bofur's hands with a bit of wideness in her eyes. When she saw it last, the poor chair had been in shambles–practically in shreds! To say she was impressed was a plain understantement when it came to this kind of prowess with tools.

"Holy shit. You actually fixed it?"

"I did. Not my best work, but what can you do except work with what ya have?"

"You can set it down against the wall right there," she pointed towards the wall on her left, and Bofur did as instructed. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me. We're responsible for it breakin' after all."

"You damn right about that. I'm gonna go now, other things to do than watch you clean."

"Alright then, we'll be here, miss."

Not knowing how to respond, Kosha settled on a swift nod in his direction and a peek at Kili's progress before turning to leave the foyer once more. This time her room was her destination. It was a little hard to conduct angry housewifely duties in nothing but a glorified sheet, and if she remembered Gandalf's words correctly, one more dwarf would be coming along soon, might as well be presentable before then.

* * *

 

When she left her room, now dressed properly in articles of her very modest wardrobe, everything was as it was before she went to bed.

Aside from the chair.

And the vase.

Bilbo was sweeping up the vase.

"If I knew you didn't care about it I would've broke it a long time ago."

"That's unnecessarily rude of you, Kosha." Bilbo stood, pan raised and filled with ceramic shards destined for a trip to the bin. "I thought better of your character." The quip drew a snort from the woman.

Now that their typical greeting of humor was out of the way, he made room for a frustrated sigh, "Anyway... The kitchen is full of dwarves again. They're cleaning their plates, I believe."

She followed him back to the dining room after he dumped the vase's remains in the trash. She hadn't noticed before, but Bilbo carried himself like an overworked parent. It was apparent in the hunch of his shoulders and the sagging of his eyelids; the way his feet dragged ever so slightly as he walked. He had been up, chasing after these unsavory individuals while they pillaged his pantry and destroyed his furniture after all. All while Kosha was fast asleep, tucked cozily in her room, too. Only the inhuman sort of person could walk away from that only mildly frustrated yet with extra reserves of energy to rely on. Being worn was a given at this point—late into the evening as it was—when your unexpected guests simply didn't care about their unwilling host.

And while she had gotten her winks in, being presented with the rowdy bunch that had invaded Bilbo's home tossing around his china whilst singing about disrespecting his house even further (and more violently), she found herself falling into the realm of mental exhaustion.

At least that Bofur fella fixed the chair. And everything in the smial was returned to it's original state... besides the pantry—and she was reluctant to check on the bathroom as it was.

And at least the whole throwing around the dishware thing saved her and Bilbo from having to do the dishes later on.

That didn't stop her from chastising them again though.

* * *

 

  
"Damn he fine!"

Kosha couldn't help herself, Google Images and curious Pinterest searches had appealed her to the mountain man look. She would admit, the mismatched Fili and Kili were attractive, and Dwalin was too despite his heavy balding (she thought the tattoos made up for that well enough). So, when Gandalf opened that door to the handsomely rugged sight of Thorin Oakenshield—she was hovering right beside the old man's shoulder just to get a good look at the newcomer— draped majestically in furs, illuminated by the pale moonlight of that cloudy night sky, the words flew out of her mouth without permission.

She wasn't ashamed though.

Since it was the truth.

And the only person who seemed bothered by her statement was Bilbo, who tensed and shot her a look of alarm, then cast that look over to the dwarf smirking in the doorway.

He was preening so obviously Kosha should have been disgusted. She bit her lip as a substitute—deliberately—and her eyebrows did a little dance to puncuate the flirtation.

It is assumed Thorin drew the line at that point, as he zeroed in on Gandalf and moved to step into the hobbit hole.

"Gandalf," Kosha's brain stuttered—she nearly tripped over her own feet as she backed away to give him room to enter. Smoky and rough was his voice. The way it rumbled and resonated into her core by simply saying Gandalf's name had her experiencing a myriad of aroused feelings. One could say she was.... shook.

"I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice."

She wanted to laugh, a snort was urging its way out at the very least, since yeah, the Shire— and by extension, Hobbiton, was a bit extreme when it came to the greenery and the hillside scenery. But there were signs all over the place. And funny enough, Bag End was the only smial with a green door. Or did Gandalf leave that out in his version of the directions? Probably, since Gandalf is a sneaky bastard and wanted Thorin to get lost, twice, because that's funny.

"Wouldn't have found it at all if not for the mark on the door." He continued, stripping off his cloak.

Kosha did not hesitate to take it for him and place it with the rest of their company's now organized belongings just as Bilbo started at the mention of a mark on his freshly painted door.

"–It was painted a week ago!"

Kosha raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Gandalf. He managed to look ashamed, just a tiny bit, as Bilbo looked accusingly up at him.

"There is a mark. I put it there myself–"

"Graffitiin' doors now too, sir? You'd fit in with those young thugs in my neighborhood that initiate the freshly unemployed and tag shit like "Kevin eats ass" on the side of Kevin's house. You hooligan."

He acknowledged the words as they appeared to negate Bilbo's anger, and blew a puff of air from his nose that could be nothing other than a short laugh. Kosha wasn't as amused though. The quip came, and would have made her chuckle a little bit herself if not for her train of thought wandering to thoughts that wondered if Gandalf would ever stop doing things that pissed Bilbo off, unltimately annoying her. Probably not.

"Now, Bilbo Baggins and Kosha Thompson, I would like to introduce you to the leader of our Company, Thorin Oakenshield."

Said dwarf straightened when the introductions were made, looking to be making himself bigger (in Bilbo's perspecrive at least) as he made a step towards the hobbit. As tall and regal as if he were presenting himself to the Queen of England.

"So this is the hobbit?" He said 'hobbit' in such a way that even his sexy voice couldn't cover up the disappointment in it. He held Bilbo's equally offended gaze for a moment longer before shifting his attention to Kosha. "And a Woman. The wizard hadn't mentioned one of your kind would be joining us."

When he first walked in, Thorin's tone was light, ready to be introduced to someone worth his time. But now he sounded like someone had spit in his sandwich. Even if Kosha was a few full heads taller than him, his stare pierced her and gave her the impression that in his mind, he was looking down his nose at her.

"First of all, I don't like the way you said 'your kind', and second of all, I have no idea what you're talking about, but I just live with him."

Bilbo cut in with a gentle shove at Kosha's hip. "Excuse me? Join you?"

Thus began the somewhat predatory circling.

"Tell me, Master Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

To that both Bilbo and Kosha uttered in unison, "Fighting–?"

"Axe or sword?"

"Well I have some skill at Conkers," he puffed up with pride at this, prompting a healthy dose of secondhand embarrassment to be dumped on Kosha's side, since even she knew that axes, swords, and Conkers had nothing to do with each other, "if you must know."

"I don't... I don't know yo stupid ass," Kosha murmured, hand coming up to hide her nose and mouth in a half facepalm.

No one heard her though, surprisingly. Bilbo continued, questioning the relevance of Thorin's questions and recieving mocking chuckles for his trouble.

"Thought as much," Thorin said flatly, yet a small smile graced his features, "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

Now, Kosha's seen her fair share of arguments, witnessed flame wars during passing periods at school. And it is universal to turn back to your posse behind you to gain clarification that what you just said to somebody–be it negative or positive–worked. Thorin did just that while addressing everyone with his statement, and apparently, every one of the other dwarves agreed with him. The uncomfortable chortles turned into a more open giggle this time around. So, even if Thorin's observation was on point, since all hobbits totally did look like grocers and not like the kind of people to break into your house, Kosha knew an insult when she saw one. And it was quite underhanded.

She decided then and there that she officially didn't like Thorin Oakenshield... with his rude ass...

She didn't hide her face then, which was currently morphed into "you got me fucked up" levels of offended.

Bilbo said nothing in his defense, his confusion about the entire situation overweighing the potential heat in Thorin's words. And then there was Gandalf, who didn't spring to the hobbit's defense even as his company led Thorin into the dining room. It was unfortunate that Kosha herself was shocked into silence by how fucked up that midget's manners were, or else she would have told him off herself.

"He's gonna have to fix that attitude, Gandalf. I don't wanna have to choke a bitch."

* * *

 

Now that their leader had arrived, none of the unexpected party guests had to be told to sit down and shut the fuck up by anybody. Thorin was sat at the head of the table and served a plate of something that seemed to be a random assortment of leftovers, meanwhile, it was quiet and the dwarves looked to him with tense expectation. How anyone found anything left in that mess was beyond understanding. However, silly questions would have to wait since it was now time to talk 'bidness. Well... Whatever bidness was to be had. Bilbo and Kosha were still in the dark about practically everything.

While the hobbit placed himself beside Gandalf, closest to Thorin, Kosha remained in the archway that led into the dining hall, watching curiously as Dwalin inquired about an individual named Dain.

Of course, whatever he was supposed to be with them for eluded her. Oh. A quest. Of course, with a world that involved the likes of wizards that could light their pipes with their index fingers and dwarves and elves and hobbits and all that jazz, quests seemed like a thing everyone in the family could enjoy.

As the closest to the exit, Kosha was sent to fetch a candle. She did so quickly, curious about the folded parchment Gandalf pulled from his sleeve a moment later. When she returned, the candle was handed to Bilbo, who was already squeezed between both wizard and dwarf, so she just hovered over his marginally smaller body to get a look at the map.

"High to the East, over ranges and rivers, through woodlands and watselands, lies a single solituded peak." Gandalf tapped a section of the map, the top, where a sketch of a mountain, guarded by a crudely drawn dragon lay.

'The Lonely Mountain' is what the text beside it read. She squinted, pushed back from practically breathing down Bilbo's neck, and went into the kitchen for a cup of something cold to drink.

She returned to leaning against the archway then. Now one of the old guys was talking about portents and omens.

A beast. A fucking dragon.

One of them announcing their courage. Something about committing Long Dick Style up the dragon's ass. Only the penis is replaced with a sword in this scenario.

The old guy who has a big ass beard but for some reason has no moustache throws shade, resulting in more subdued yelling.

Fili announcing dwarvish courage.

Kili spouting some bullshit about Gandalf killing dragons. Pff... And Kosha's sphincter is sewed shut.

More fucking yelling because....reasons.

Sadly, not even Kosha managed to quiet them that time. Thorin had no problem with it though, shut them all up in a second.

Then he starts saying shit about other people hearing rumors and other things she couldn't care less about.

Oh. A key now.

"The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage." Gandalf said, sharing a look with the hobbit at his side, who seemed to still be confused on the matter.

Kosha couldn't believe it either, was he saying what she thought he was saying?

"But... If we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."

"So that's what that burglar shit is about?"

"A burglar?" Bilbo perked up at the pause in conversation, "You'd need a good one for a job such as this, an expert actually."

Another dwarf, a red head with possibly more hair on his head than Kosha had, leaned in questioningly, "And are you?"

"Am I what?" Asked Bilbo, blinking stupidly.

Kosha sighed and buried herself into the rim of her cup, preparing for the ridicule.

The exclaimation of "He said he's an expert!" was a surprise.

Of course Bilbo denies that he's an expert...

"Me? No, no, no. I'm not a burglar! Ive never stolen a thing in my life."

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mister Baggins," Mr. No Moustache chimed in, "He's hardly burglar material."

And Bilbo agreed.

If she weren't facing the realization of how embarrassing this whole situation should be, Kosha would've laughed.

On the flip side, irritation was a bit more suitable for this situation, once a certain half bald tank decided to open his mouth.

"Aye," Dwalin, perhaps a step lower from Thorin in terms of shitty attitude, had decided it was his time to shine, "The wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves."

Oh wow. These people really liked lowering others' worth, didn't they? Not to say Dwalin was wrong, but that was fucking rude, they all were fucking rude. Kosha was beginning to have it up to the ceiling with this entire... thing.

* * *

 

She thought Bofur was a decent dwarf.

No, he was just as much of a dick as everyone else at the table.

Thanks to him, the sensitive hobbit she called her friend was passed out on the rug. She was unimpressed with the fact that merely describing possible deaths could shock someone into fainting, but with Bilbo it should have been obvious that it would happen.

As she hauled Bilbo away from the dining hall and away from the staring motley crew of idiots, she looked Bofur dead in the eye and said, "Fuck you and your hat."

Her crude language so far hadn't been met with such surprise. That made Bofur's resulting offense and shock all the more satisfying.

It brought an unreasonably large smile to her face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm.... Story Time. 
> 
> So, my sister watched The Hobbit trilogy with me twice, and she loved the shit out of it both times and kind of got into it. So I thought that maybe I could get some insight on some characterization. I was having trouble with the scene where Kosha eye sexes Thorin, so here's that conversation. 
> 
> Me: So, how do you think Thorin would react if when Gandalf opens that door, he sees a woman look him dead in the eye and say, "Damn he fine," bites her lip all sensual, and wiggles her eyebrows at him? 
> 
> Sister: (sleepily breastfeeding newborn) Who?
> 
> Me: Thorin. 
> 
> Sister: I don't know who that is. 
> 
> Me: Oakenshield. 
> 
> Sister: Oh yeah... That guy.... Um... He takes her to bed with him. 
> 
> Me: What? Why the fuck would he do that? 
> 
> Sister: Because that's what hobbits.... And Oakenshield's do.
> 
> This is coming from the same person who told me that she wanted to read about Kosha and Bilbo having a romance. She wanted me to write them getting married and having a child in the canon of this story. 
> 
> I don't even know anymore.


	8. Mama Bear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't feel like comparing this one to other chapters. But I will say, this chapter is really heavy on the dialogue. 
> 
> Holy fuck the dialogue is heavy.

So...

Bilbo was out cold, was sat in his armchair in the parlour, and tea was on the table steeping to be ready for when he woke.

The party had died, naturally, and now their houseguests were milling about, quiet conversations taking place from the hall to as far as the dining area.

Uncaring of what they did to occupy themselves for the moment, Kosha and Gandalf stayed close the unconcious hobbit, conversing in low whispers.

"He just passed out when he imagined getting burned alive so excuse him if he doesn't wanna to go, Gandalf."

"We'll allow him to speak for himself when he wakes, my dear."

"Yeah, okay. Have fun with that." Her feet carried her aimlessly, pacing in front of the fire and moving to hover around Bilbo more often than not. Gandalf remained silent, watching her curiously. It gave her enough time to find her words, mull over the decor on the mantle, stare out into the window. It helped to keep her nerves in check.  
  
"Tell me one thing though," finally, she turned to the old man hunched near the doorway, "Did you expect me to just stay here while y'all go prancing around fightin' dragons and goblins and shit? Cause I'm not. You ain't about to leave me here with these vicious rabbit people. Uh-uh. No sir you ain't. Did you know Bilbo's a damn landlord over here? He gotta handle finances and shit! And while I can count a stack I can't handle all that paperwork, sir. You got me fucked up if you actually thought—"

"Don't assume the worst of me, dear! Of course I considered you would join us." It was a habit of Gandalf's to raise his arms akimbo when affronted, and it was no surprise he was doing it now, "It may have been last minute, all things considering... But...Kosha, hear my words. You may have a role to play here in this instance. As I mentioned earlier today, I have discovered others like you, people who have no connection to this world. Men and women with strange ways of speaking and ill adjustment to the living conditions myself and very many native to this land are used to."

Kosha's arms lifted, to cross them defensively over her chest or to bring them up to her face she wasn't sure, since upon a very brief reconsideration, she moved to hug herself instead.

"So you're gonna take me to meet them or something?" Her face was hard as she looked into Gandalf's face, searching for some kind of break in his suddenly sympathetic expression, but she found none.

"To a degree, yes. But there's more to it than that."

"Go ahead."

"Have a seat, then. You look as if you'll topple over at the slightest touch."

And she obeyed. She sat heavily and sank into the chair opposite of Bilbo's, but that didn't make her any less rigid. The wizard sighed, rubbing his forehead in an exasperated manner.

"I mentioned to you a man that had recognized me. Not as the Wandering Wizard or any of the other names the races of this land fancy. I was addressed as if he had known me all his life. It was interesting, to say the least, to find that this "man" was a dwarf. And not any dwarf, no, since this particular dwarf carried a strange dialect by the likes of which I had never heard, and he himself believed he had been spirited away into Middle Earth. He in fact urged me to make sure you met him."

Are you serious?

Was this some kind of movie where when someone wanted to see another someone with a similar problem, they would team up and fix the problem only because they teamed up? Because that was the vibe Kosha was getting from this.

Not that she wasn't excited to meet him, no. Not at all. In reality, she hadn't realized she sprung out of her chair and was pacing again.

She paced like that without any interruption from Gandalf for a while until a smaller voice broke the silence.

"Are you alright?"

She paused, noticing just then she was standing in front of a dishevelled hobbit's chair, staring at him like he'd just picked off her plate.

"Prolly not."

"How much have you heard, Master Baggins?"

Bilbo removed the blanket tucked on his lap and stood, making for the kettle and the cup placed beside it.

"Enough to know a dwarf wants to meet up with her, of course." His hands shook as he made an attempt at serving himself.

  * "Are  _you_ okay?" Kosha asked.



A shrug was all she got.

She didn't press, it was obvious the one to fall over if touched with even the slightest of firmness was Bilbo. And she was still reeling over the renewed fact that there were others like her, feelings from earlier that day returning full force like a recurring migrane.

"Well is there another contract or am I taking Bilbo's?"

One giant mess of projectile spat tea later—

"What!?"

"If Gandalf is sayin' what I think he's sayin' I might be able to figure what the fuck happened, maybe get in touch with my family."

Bilbo set his cup onto the table, the huge stain left on his shirt held Kosha's eye but Bilbo must have been vexed enough not to notice.

The pair stared at each other for a long time. It was long enough for Kosha to wonder if the hobbit was debating whether or not he should object, since the look on his face showed that he was indeed torn about something. It was long enough for Kosha to notice that Bilbo was still shaken, that he was still shaking. And it was long enough for Gandalf to grow uncomfortable and clear his throat.

"Of course it is an option for the both of you to commit yourselves to the Company." He said, "Though for different reasons, you both will have ways to contribute to the quest."

Kosha nodded her piece, no one else moved, and another bout of silence ensued.  
  
"I'll go then—" Bilbo suddenly exclaimed, "—wait no, what am I saying? I can't go! No, I can't go through with it..."

Bilbo blurted this so suddenly Kosha actually jumped. His words surprised her, that he even considered it for a split second was a milestone.

"—but it would pain me to think of you gone like that. And the silence. Oh! That would be terribly dreadful— I've gotten used to having you around..."

"Bilbo just come—"

"—I can't just up and do that! I'm a Baggins! And Bagginses don't go off on adventures without a word. I'm obligated to Bag End if you haven't noticed—I probably never would have even considered keeping you around if you didn't care about the tidiness of my things more than I did!"

Kosha sighed. "Yeah. You've got responsiblities. I know this, man. But don't tell me you haven't been itching to get out of town for the longest. I've been to the halfway point of your walks, that shit is beautiful. Imagine the things you get to see further down the way! On top of that, for me at least, I get to meet some people who'll understand what a real John is and where that shit is supposed to go!"

She twirled to face Gandalf, patiently and quietly standing off to the side as Kosha gave her little speech.

"If he's not going, I'll take the contract."

"A wise decision, as I'm sure this will not only take you towards Bree, but as far as Erebor itself if you are as eager as I think you are."

"Shit, you sure spread us all out didn't you? Do you know how many other people?"

"It is hard to be sure, since there may be more of you popping up this very moment. But what I know currently is that there are five of you, spanning all the way to the Misty Mountains."  
  
  
She didn't need Gandalf to sell it any longer. "A'ight, I'm sold." Actually, she was on board before Gandalf even proposed the idea, when he simply alluded to the notion. "I'm down for going, so who's got the contract?"

"Of course, of course." Gandalf said, his smile returning. "Balin retrieved it not long after Bilbo's spill. He may still have it now."

So it was no surprise when Kosha pulled up her dress and swiftly made her way out of the parlour in search of the dwarf.

"So that's it?" Bilbo uttered, his voice small as he had so quickly been forgotten, "She's going with you and taking the contract meant for me?"

Gandalf's smile pulled into a grin. Out of everything, he hadn't expected the issues and shenanigans of such a mismatched pair as Kosha and Bilbo to make him smile so much in only a night. He expected this though, methods of reverse psychology always seemed to work with the headstrong.

"If you wish, another contract can be drawn up. But I thought you had no desire to come, Bilbo?"

The hobbit moved to stand in front of the fire, his fingers tapping absently at his suspenders. He stared into the flame for a moment, quiet. Gandalf for a second thought that Bilbo wouldn't say anything at all. Another beat of silence—those seemed to be in high stock that night— then he sighed quite loudly, saving the wizard from digging for anything consoling to say.

"Just let me sit quietly for a moment."

The old man's grin fell instantly.

* * *

 

"How is he?" The old dwarf asked. "Sound of mind?"

Kosha nodded as she gave her own scan of the overly long contract. It seemed like Balin missed no details with this. She knew what she was signing up for, but she only planned on stopping wherever that mysterious man wanted to meet her— however far that was—and would probably only continue if she hadn't accidentally impaled herself by then.

"Bilbo's a sensitive dude—a little extra though. He should be fine but I don't think he plans on coming."

She lowered the paper from her face to reveal Balin's disheartened expression.

"So it seems we've lost our burglar."

Kosha folded up the contract and slipped it into one of her ever useful skirt pockets to sign when she got ahold of a pen. "He'll probably change his mind. He does that sometimes... A lot, actually."

Balin chuckled, Kosha smiled.

"Y'know," the woman continued, "Just leave a copy here for him to sign before we leave. It'd be worth a shot to change his mind again."

"I will keep that in mind."

Thinking that was it, since Balin's eyes fell away from her after his statement, she turned on her heel and began making her way down the hall.

"Mistress Thompson, hold a moment."

She stopped and whipped her head around. The dwarf still wasn't looking at her, but at the wall. He was staring at it so intensely Kosha thought for a moment he could actually burn a hole through it. But Oakenshield seemed more the type to have that kind of superpower when she thought about it.

"I won't pry for your reasoning," he uttered, just loud enough for her to hear. "But... I would like to know if you're sure about this."

* * *

 

Bilbo found Kosha in her room, sitting cross-legged in the middle of a mess.

"What's all this?" Was his question, a dumb question, but a question nonetheless.

He didn't wait for an answer before he stepped over some of the clutter. A candlestick and the blue trousers she wore before Bilbo finally spent money on her, more trousers—the kind more suitable for Menfolk and their decency, anyway. Boots, skirts, that jar of hair accessories. It's like Kosha built a moat of clothing and other random items like it would protect her from indecision.

"I don't know what to take..." Kosha muttered, tapping her nails restlessly on her knee with one hand and kneading a handful of her hair in the other. "I ain't even been hiking before."

"Have you ever camped outside?"

She lifted her head and peered up at Bilbo, he hadn't even made it past the hearth in his adventure of 'don't step on Kosha's things'. "I was a girl scout once. Went to an expo and camped once. But that was about it. When you're a little kid that needs a permission slip for bringing your own lunch, Scout Leaders do a lot of shit for you. So, yeah, but the only reason I know how to start up the fireplace is because you showed me."

"Sounds stifling." Bilbo quipped, triggering an agreeing snort on Kosha's end. Finally, he managed to shuffle to her side and grab the pack she'd most likely fished out of the storage room. "Tell me about it while I help you pack the necessities."

"Alright. I guess I should start on what the hell a girl scout even is. Y'all don't really have those out here."

"No," agreed Bilbo, "Don't be afraid to go into detail."

Amongst the clutter, Bilbo spotted a few things she might need on the journey. Naturally, when someone lived with another someone who was as good as destitute, the purchasing of clothes was necessary. Kosha had not been used to the winter months. While yes, snow was one of the many things that fascinated her, the chill was nothing to be trifled with. In fact, Kosha had only bellyached about her lack of a winter wardrobe when Bag End's windows became frosty.  
  
He grabbed the coat he'd bought for her that first year—more out of pity than anything, since he couldn't bear to let Kosha tromp about in the snow with nothing but his mother's old shawl—and folded it before setting it at his side. She would most likely need it sooner than later. After a moment of quiet, she was probably gathering her thoughts, Kosha began her story.

"Girl scouts, boy scouts—whatever—are used mostly just for entertainment and gives housewives somethin' to do," she moved to grab at a pair of her trousers, host to a rust color that she never really wore because it didn't go with anything she currently owned. "People say shit like it teaches leadership and initiative, but in my experience, all we did was earn mundane ass badges like photography and art or something, and only one of us in our troop sold cookies. That eventually cost us, we didn't have enough money to continue, and I was barely a Cadet before we disbanded."

"Sounds like you didn't enjoy it much."

Kosha shrugged at that and handed the pants to him. They were neatly folded and placed at the bottom of the pack before he went on to add a few other things that were within reach, the toughest-looking of her many blouses was one example. "Anyway... I think there was more to it back in the day when you didn't need to be a bored mom who only felt like their child wouldn't end up being a fuck up by putting them in a petting zoo. It might've been a feminist thing when it first started. I can't be sure 'bout that though, since I don't have Google to search up all info about all the shit I wanna talk to you about."

"Google." Bilbo let the word rest on his tongue for a moment. Of all the things that Kosha rambled about she'd never mentioned anything about it. Was it a person or some kind of book? Well, Bilbo could just ask, but the way Kosha tensed after the words tumbled out of her mouth—she was looking at him strangely as well...  
  
She was waiting for him to ask.

"It's kinda..." She began before Bilbo could open his mouth to do just that. "Like a... Really big book. So big, that it's got almost all the answers to any question." She went into a whole 'gesticulating to herself while muttering and grunting in frustration, then gave up and sighed, "Don't ask, please. Then I've gotta exolain a whole lotta other shit and I don't remember half the shit I learned at school."

Bilbo hid his amazement with a nod, since his concern about what was useful enough to stuff in that rucksack overshadowed his curiosity (that sort of disturbed him), surprisingly.

The curt response was enough to push a relieved sigh out of his companion. "So should I clean up or do you need anything else from the pile?"

He didn't reply.

"An oilskin," he murmured, "waterskin..."

Another round of quiet as Bilbo loaded his thoughts.

"BOOTS!" he suddenly cried, shooting up to his feet and dashing out the door, leaving Kosha on the floor staring after him in confusion.

Unbeknownst to Mr. Baggins, his exclaimation sent of ripple of surprised flinches all throughout the house.

* * *

 

"Not to sound like a broken record, but what the fuck is wrong wit' you?"

Now equipped with a rucksack stuffed to the brim with things like matches and a mini sewing kit, Kosha was growing concerned by Bilbo's sudden mother-henning. Just then, she was watching Bilbo sew pockets on the inside of her coat for storing the money he was giving her in oddly large quantities.

"Always keep the most important things on your person." He said, not actually answering the question, "When you get to Bree, purchase a sturdy pair of boots..."

"Did my mom fuckin' die and come back in the form of you? Cause last I checked this," she pointed at Bilbo just as his fast paced sewing caused him to stick himself with the needle. "Was not something you would'a been doing yesterday."

No lasting damage done, he simply stuck his injured finger in his mouth and shot the woman at his side a glare that had no real heat to it.

"Did you sign the contract and give it back to Master Balin?" He asked, drying his finger on his trousers and returning to the task, a bit slower this time.

"Yes, mama."

The hobbit turned an extra shade of red at that, as his padding about his smial in search of things such as the oilcloth cloak and extra silver reserves had already done him in in terms of cardio.

"Not your mother, just a concerned hobbit in a rush." He hunched closer to his work on the impromptu pocket, ignoring Kosha's puff of laughter.

"Yes, ma'am. Even though it's not even that late."

"If you really want me to be your mother, I have an unused wooden spoon somewhere in the kitchen!"

"Okay, okay.... I'll shut up... Mama."

Tug, wrap, pull. He was done with the pocket and it only took him a half hour.

"So are you done with getting me ready for school?" Said Kosha as she draped herself over the back of Bilbo's chair. "I'm sure all the other kids won't make funna me because I'm one highlighter short of a full pencilbox."

The hobbit stood, neatly setting the coat over the arm of his chair. "No time for your jokes, now. You all have to wake up early and be on your way... Oh."

The horrified expression that passed over Bilbo's already stress-etched face had fear quickly set itself deep at the bottom of Kosha's stomach.

"What? Is there a fuckin' axe-murderer behind me and I'm about to join my anscestors?"

Bilbo shook his head and made his way out of the sitting room. No words. He just left.

She made to follow him. When she left the room, she came face to face with a handful of their guests: Dwalin, Fili, the red head and Bofur, probably on their way to them, sporting a poorly masked confusion just as she was as Bilbo wandered off.

Unwilling to break the silence, Dwalin gave her a questioning look. Easy to read. He was clearly saying, "What the fuck is wrong with the hobbit?" and Kosha had no answer. So she shrugged and gave her best 'No fucking clue' face.

Then Bilbo returned, saw the concerned faces of the four in the hallway, and said in complete seriousness, "Something wrong?"

"No... " Bofur beat everyone else to the punch, "Just that you walked outta there lookin' like...well...petrified. "

"Possessed." Kosha corrected.

"Sounds about right." Added Fili.

Bilbo was quick to raise his hands up defensively, and it was revealed he aquired some hair oil, a comb, and some hair ties and a small bag during his retreat. These items would belong to none other than Kosha, so of course Dwalin's eyebrows were raised.

"No, no, no! Nothing like that. I just need to tend to her hair. I mean, look at the state of it!"

He gestured to the woman in question. Kosha, larger than everyone in the house besides Gandalf; loud, and boisterous in a few ways, actually reverted to a blushing maiden, fisting a clump of her gigantic mass of hair when all eyes turned to her.

"A little fucked up to say that kinda shit in front of strangers—I wasn't even thinking about it and now you gotta point it out—So don't just stand there, come do my hair!" Then she retreated back into the sitting room.

Bilbo brushed past the dwarves with a couple of polite 'excuse me's as he followed after her, either not noticing or just not caring about the now astounded expressions on the four dwarves' faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four people that I know irl that have read this fic ship Kosha and Bilbo. So I'm just like... Fuck it... I'll throw in some fan service. So prepare your butts for... Something.... 
> 
> Also, I added a tag.


	9. A Weird Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do half-assed research. It makes me frustrated. But you gotta do it bruh and that's the reality of writing fics in this universe. I looked on wikipedia though so like... I don't know if I'm accurate with a lot of the things that are supposed to happen in this plot. And I read the book a while ago... Don't remember much. If I'm wrong about some things I'm sorry my boo's!

"No, no. Stay."

"It is no trouble, Master Baggins, we'll cause you no more problems tonight."

"I insist. I have more than enough rooms to hold the lot of you. Besides, I'm passed the point of caring. My nerves are just about shot anyway."

  Thorin's brow raised without his permission as he watched the hobbit and Balin converse from his place by the fire. He had known Mister Baggins was a delicate and neurotic little thing the moment he laid eyes on him, but he didn't expect Bofur's listing of the obvious dangers of facing a dragon to drive him to fainting, let alone cause this now passive countenance that insist his company stay for the night.  Which was odd, since Dwalin relayed to him the events that took place earlier that evening. If he hadn't quoted the exact words that flew out of that woman's mouth, he might've thought she had a hand in convincing their now 'Not Burglar' to let them hunker down in their home.

   So now Thorin was just a bit perplexed. Excuse him.

    Perhaps it had a _little_ to do with the woman?

   Thorin was neither blind nor hard of hearing. Aside from the clear strangeness of having someone clearly carrying at least some Southron blood living in the Shire of all places—and with a Hobbit to boot—he could see they came together via happenstance, but had somehow maintained a relationship, platonic or otherwise.

   There was no possible way those two could have been related. They should have no reason to have come together at all considering how far away the Shire was from any region that harbored any inherently brown-skinned folk. It was all strange to Thorin. He couldn't find any explanation for it other than...well... _otherwise._

   But then even that didn't make any sense! His little knowledge of the Shirelings told him that should be near impossible.

   He could ask the wizard.

  Bah, he wouldn't tell him anything. Gandalf didn't even tell him their supposed burglar had company. And look what happened, _she_  was coming with them as a tag-along instead of who the contract was for—the hobbit!

   Actually, when he thought about it, he didn't even care as much as he thought he did, which was a relief. It was a small curiosity, nothing to tangle his braids over....

   Except Dwalin had also mentioned another thing... About hair and braiding... About how much skill Mister Baggins had with it. Well, the last part had mostly been his nephew bouncing in his chair...

   Thorin wasn't quite sure the less "broad" traditions and viewpoints of dwarrow held with the other races... But Dwalin was so sure. ' _The lass got wary of us standin' there in view of everything. Didn't want to impose much, it was clear why she was bothered.'_

    Mildly annoyed that he couldn't piece it together without assumptions, he dropped the subject from his mind and huffed next to the fire, attempting to think of other things. More important things.

   Like the map and key in his tunic.

  "I assure you, Master Balin, though I may not be able to prepare a proper breakfast before your departure tomorrow, I can at least provide beds."

    -----

   Somehow, Bilbo convinced them to continue their invasion of his home. Too bad, Dwalin seemed adamant about leaving tonight and waking up at dawn within the mustiness of the Green Dragon, no matter how Hobbity it was it still reeked of smoke and disgustingly alcoholic   shouting. Kosha wasn't too into that but she wouldn't have minded. In her head it just meant she was a step closer to meeting this man—

   Dwarf.

  Whatever he was.

  Excited was an understatement. Who knows how long he had been here. Who knows the things he's seen. Maybe he had answers. It was unlikely, but a girl could hope. She just prayed it counted for something.

   She sighed as she set her bag down in Bag End's entryway, away from their guests belongings, naturally, and made to retreat to her bedroom.

   "Good night!" She called as she passed the parlour, now full of lounging dwarves and a Bilbo. He was the only one who responded in kind to the yawned toodle-oo. She didn't care much that he was the only one of course, but that was still rude of the others to ignore her like that.

   She was surprised to be met by Gandalf in front of her bedroom door. She thought he left a long time ago. Turns out he was just fucking invisible the whole time. He was old, weird, and a wizard and he used his powers like an old weirdo.

   "You need something, sir?" Was her greeting.

   "Are you prepared for tomorrow?" Was his, "You've signed a contract, so that must mean you will be going very far with us."

   "I'm sure that guy's got something important to say to me about the situation.  But you also said we got other people poppin' up in this bitch and it'd be nice to talk to other people that I... can relate to." Her eyes focused on the wood of the bedroom door as she wondered just how true that actually could have been. Well, considering she didn't know how many _different_  people had been showing up in this strange country or whatever... A few of them had to have been able to use wifi before they crossed over. When she found those people, she was going to hug them and cry for their lost technology with them. "And if I gotta do a little walking to meet 'em, by all means."

   "You are well cared for here in the Shire. I admire your ability to leave such comforts so easily."

   "I'm cryin' on the inside."

   "Well cry as much as you dare, for there are many more things worthy of crying about outside." He said this with a smile, well, he usually said things with a smile, but Kosha didn't take it as patronizing as it sounded because he was smiling.

   "So can I go to bed now?" She asked, sounding a little too senile to her liking, but when Gandalf silently acquiesced by stepping aside, she gladly took the admission, entering her room and closing it tight behind her.

   She proceeded to pad around her room, gathering the clothes she would wear tomorrow. She only had a few pairs of shoes, and the boots she had already owned were worn thin and could possibly fall apart trekking on uneven terrain. Because let's be realistic, Kosha knew Bilbo wasn't just being an annoying mother-figure by loading her with money for buying essentials like a new pair of boots, however not sexy they were.

   Tunic, check. Travelling coat, check. Pants, check. She set her old jeans that were only intact because she left them alone for a year and a half, by her other pants as a safety precaution. At the end of the day, the flexible denim was far sturdier than whatever material her more recently aquired trousers were made of. She would wear those underneath in case shit went down and she ended up with her clothes in tatters. That would suck though, the outfit she picked for the first leg of the journey was so well coordinated...

   Now all that was left was to head to bed. Being careful of her fresh cornrows and newly glossed ponytail, she huddled under the blanket and shut her eyes to enter dreamland. But, when she tried to do that, thoughts of faces she had never seen and voices she had never heard filled her mind, and she was left shaking with anxiety and an eagerness she hadn't felt since she was younger. Her elation was similar to that of when she was 8 and Christmas was right around the corner. When there were so many presents she couldn't help but stay up in the night, sneak up to the tree and count all the gifts meant for her, guess what she'd gotten and hope that it was what she'd asked her mom for. The feeling was missed, as it was a good feeling, and reminded her of home. She hadn't thought of home much until after Gandalf had mentioned more people being whisked away to this place. The guilt added to her tossing and turning, and it was like that for a while. Eventually, however, she was lulled to sleep by the low hum of 13 voices smoothly rumbling throughout the smial.  
  
   It was the first time she was thankful to their unexpected guests.

* * *

 

    If you'd told Bilbo Baggins three years ago that he'd end up hosting a nearly six foot tall woman in his smial, where eventually dwarves would show up and nearly destroy it, only to whisk the woman away for an adventure he desperately wished he could go on himself—even if you were some kind of oracle, he would've  called you insane and recommended you to the nearest doctor.

  But now, as he was being lifted feet off the ground in a bone crushing hug by this strangely mannered and strangely cultured giant of a woman, he didn't think that would be too far fetched if it could happen to literally anyone else. It's more of an adventure he could have hoped for in reality.

   "I'm gonna miss you, Bilbooo!"

  Red in the face from all the dwarves avidly watching and chuckling at the hobbit being smothered by Kosha, he patted her back solemly as he made eye contact with a particular Thorin Oakenshield. As stoic as he was when they first encountered the spectacle currently was too funny even for a dwarf like him to resist. He was fighting the smile, but Bilbo could see plain as day that it was a wasted effort.

   Sadly, when he noticed Bilbo looking at him, he won the battle of perpetual stoicism and turned around to pretend to tend to his pony.

   Meh.

   Finally, Kosha put him down, and to his surprise, Kosha looked near to tears. Emotion was so clear on her face he almost didn't recognize her.

   "If I don't end up going home I'm comin' back to keep squatting up here at your place a'ight?"

   She said this with a wavering voice, one that made Bilbo near uncomfortable with this change of attitude. But he nodded all the same. "You're always welcome here. Don't hesiate to stop by for tea even if you do go home."

   He put on his brightest smile, but that didn't help the fall in Kosha's expression at his words.

   "Yeah, alright, lil' homie."

Without warning, she leaned down, gently took Bilbo's face in her hands and placed a long, wet kiss to his forehead.

    A little part of him started and wanted to throw his hands up and retreat back into his hobbit hole because he was not expecting that and he was not sure if he was okay with what just happened! It's not like he was inexperienced with such things, for a hobbit in his youth, a kiss on the forehead was close to nothing. But now, in that moment, with Kosha, he was reeling with a mix of discomfort and affection. 

    Bilbo betrayed himself by mentally vowing to remember the feel of her lips on his skin—as a reminder of her presence of course.

   Sobering, Kosha straightened, grinned at him, and before Bilbo had the chance to say anything, descended the steps to Bag End, and towards the journey that awaited her.

   He watched her retreating back before lifting his eyes to wave at Gandalf, who had prepared two horses as he'd somehow _known_ Kosha would be coming along. He was mounted and smiling in a mix if smugness and elation, but it didn't look like the look was aimed toward Bilbo. He was probably thinking to himself, but he managed to wave goodbye before returning to his head.

   Once Kosha was mounted it was time to depart. One by one, the Company hopped on to their ponies, and they were off before Bilbo knew it.

   Into the horizon. Leaving Bilbo alone.

    By himself.

    In solitude.

"Well then... time to go shopping again."

* * *

 

  "You're not perfect, but you ride decently Miss."

   She was surprised that any of them began talking to her first. They were a ways out. Stopping at the Green Dragon was a quick endeavor, and she only remembered ordering a sandwich and paying before she was back on the horse. Everyone was quiet that whole time, and she had grown comfortable with it. For conversation to start now seemed a little uneven.

   She wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a question or not so, to whoever had spoken she called back, "I used to love horses when I was little." That wasn't even the half of it. She had a book on horse breeds. She had bags printed with horses, posters, vhs tapes on horse documentaries—many would call it an obsession if she wasn't twelve at the time of this excessive fancy. Her father, bless his soul, had loved spoiling her with trips to equestrian facilities and the local ranches back when they lived in the countryside. Her family had no interest in maintaining their own animals, so she made do with these trips. She learned the basics of riding, so she wouldn't unintentionally cramp her ass in the saddle early on, but that was about it after he left. The memories were... She didn't think about them much.

   While stuck in her head, she didn't notice the voices surrounding her. It came back from a soft muffle of voices to as clear as she was born hearing. Then there was some laughing. Were they poking fun at her?

   She turned to see. In front of her was where the dwarves she learned were called Nori, Bombur, Gloin, Oin and of course Thorin, with Gandalf riding ahead only by the length of three of these guys stacked on top of each other. No noise came from that section of the line, so it was only natural to swivel her head around to see what all the hubbub was about.

   "Oh now the lass hears us!" Bofur exclaimed, a little too dramatically.

   The woman blinked, confused as to why _her_ silence of all things would aggravate him, "What? You say somethin' important?"

    A rumble of laughter came from a few of them, the two youngest and the guy who she vaguely remembered was named Bifur from previous introductions before they left found this particularly funny.

    Note to self: Talk shit to them regularly.

   "That's just plain ill-mannered of you! I was weavin' a tale of horses—y'know, ones with horns and wings and whatnot. You had a cloudly look on your face so I thought it'd lighten the mood. Was interesting when I started but now I don't think I can right remember exactly what I was talking about."

    "That's fine, Master Bofur," another one, this time it was Nori, all the way in front, started, "My question is, did you even know what you were talking about when you started?"

   Okay, so it wasn't just people they didn't like.

      It was their own circle where they also threw shade.

  

* * *

 

   The argument started by Dori that resulted from Nori's quip drove Kosha to speeding up and placing herself beside the wizard.

  Gandalf didn't talk much during their ride past the Brandywine, but the closer that they got to their first stop, the more talkative he became, but it was mostly far between spurts of how interested he was in watching her and the dwarf/not dwarf interact. It was like he was more excited than her to meet up with the dude. He hadn't revealed his name yet, and he only alluded to the meeting as if he didn't want anyone else in the company to figure it out. She was lucky the bay mare Gandalf picked for her wasn't an asshole, or else her patience would have been wearing down to a thread's fiber.

   That's when Bilbo came bursting through the brush with a huge smile on his face, an overstuffed pack on his back, and a signed contract trailing behind him. She hadn't made a bet on if he'd come running after them or not—she totally would've gotten paid since she agreed with Gandalf...a little, and it was a loss on her part most definitely—but that didn't stop her from being pleased.

     The line halted and waited for Bilbo to catch up with them. Kosha sat relaxed on her horse, waiting for Balin to declare the contract in order.

      The look on his face and the sputtering when Thorin ordered for the hobbit to be mounted had her giggling for a full thirty seconds.

    Uncomfortable and displeased, Bilbo posed a very hilarious figure on top of his pony.

    "What changed ya mind?" Kosha abandoned the wizard and rode up beside Bilbo. It was a minor comfort to him it seemed, as his scrunched up expression softened a tad.

    "Aside from the deathly quiet in my house, I realized.. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. So I'm going to take it."

   "Well I'm glad you came," Kosha said, shifting a bit in the saddle. "I was 'bout to start worryin' who was gonna braid my hair up when this ish gets frizzy."

Companionable silence, prodded lightly by the soft murmur of quietly conversing dwarves accompanied them, and Bilbo's face returned to the constipated one he had only minute ago.

    The quiet air was suddenly filled with an abrupt sneeze. Kosha turned her head towards the sound, and found her eyes trained on Bilbo.

    He ignored her concerned "Bless you," pat his jacket pocket, found nothing, and proceeded to panic, quickly fishing through every other pocket he had and groaning when he turned up empty handed.

   "You forgot your snot rag?"

  "Hankerchief!" Bilbo narrowed his eyes at her snort.

    Fortunately, Bilbo was prepared without even knowing it. The worrywart from last night packed Kosha two hankerchiefs. She pulled the spare from her coat pocket and held it in front of his face before he could embarrass himself by calling out to go back for his own when they were way too far out for that shit. And that was a totally normal thing to do in any situation. And when Bilbo was embarrassed, Kosha was twice as embarrassed for him.

    "Ah, thank you." Was all he said before taking the cloth and blowing his nose into it. Crisis averted.

   

* * *

 

   She accounted for stopping once she saw the setting sun begin painting the surrounding land in oranges and yellows, and she was a bit eager to sleep outside for the first time. Well, it wouldn't be the first time. When she first got to this place the first thing she did was sleep on a rock, but the point was!—she got to camp the proper way this time.

   With a fire.  
   
   And other people.

   And someone else would be cooking on that fire. No cold, prepacked lunches for her!

   There was nothing to do other than gathering shit to start the fire that no one else already had covered. So, after being shown the proper way to take care of their mounts after a long day's ride by the wonderful and slightly miffed Gloin, who had chastised both Bilbo and Kosha for almost leaving their equines uncared for, they went to work gathering sticks and fallen branches for the fire. Because what else were they supposed to do?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OHMYGAWD I FINALLY MANAGED TO DRAW HER "PROPERLY!" I still don't like it, but I remember promising a picture of Kosha for a previous chapter and when I couldn't add an image I felt like I failed all of you expecting to see how I pictured her. And this is literally the best I can do. I for some reason can't draw her right... I swear my artsyle is better than this XD


	10. Fuckery, Fuckery, and More Fuckery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It just came to my attention that my hilariously worded title didn't immediately hit home for some of you. 
> 
> Shame. 
> 
> I'm shaking my head so hard right now.

     It was an inevitablity. Kosha drew in the two brothers known as Fili and Kili. They didn't speak when on the road, but when they were resting, it was like her oddness was a small block of cheese, they were rats, and they were most definitely starving.

   At first, Thorin had told them to back off from her. Which was kind of him depending on the reasoning—she may have shown some discomfort at first. However, she slowly realized that without them she wouldn't have anyone but Bilbo and Gandalf to talk to for the next few days, and Bilbo was already mingling decently with Bofur for some reason. Kosha didn't want to impose or get in the way of his getting along with the others. For all she knew, he was entering a dragon infested mountain for them. Clinging to him the majority of the ride wouldn't help much with the dynamic that would soon settle over the company. So that just left her with Gandalf... And... She didn't want to talk to only Gandalf the whole trip. So, if Fili and Kili were coming to her, she'd welcome them with open arms.

   Over the first few exchanges, she'd gone through questions she hadn't really thought she'd be asked by them of all people. Questions like, "Where are you from," and "Why'd you decide to come with us," or...the most encompassing one so far, "Why do you talk like that?"

   Eventually her endless usage of references that most definitely didn't exist here, alongside the 'yo's, 'sup's, and 'dude's got her stuck in the center of a language lesson.

   During the sequence where they got up extremely early to pack up and trudge on, only miles away from their destination now, she entertained herself, the boys, and by extension, whoever else cared enough to eavesdrop, with the not-so-quiet lesson... on Ebonics.

   "'Buss' is literally just 'bust'," Kosha said, cringing a bit as the brothers were literally butchering the accent as they repeated her phrasing. "But it has like...two meanings. So 'Buss a cap in yo ass' is a good thing to start with."

  She'd never heard anyone actually say that... she was the only reliable source on the matter.

   "I'm confused. Buss a cap in yo..." Fili's brows bunched up tightly over his eyes as he thought over it. "What does that even mean?"

   "Somethin' like shooting someone. But like, not specifically in their ass. Ass can mean a whole person. Which just leaves it to the imagination where somebody's gettin' shot."

   "Use it in a longer sentence." Kili piped in. Where Fili was skeptical and not as enthusiastic, Kili made up for it in buckets. Kosha was fucking weird and out of place there and he seemed to appreciate that.

  "Miss me with that shit, or Imma buss a cap in yo' ass." Kosha supplied.

  "So it is used more often as a threat?"

   That was not either of the brothers.

  It was the small one that looked more like a leprechaun than a dwarf.

  "The chance at discovery wouldn't have kept you away for long, Ori!" Came the peppy yet jokingly condescending response. Kili sure seemed excited that morning.

   "I couldn't help but overhear." Ori said. He was a bit tucked in on himself. His eyes never met Kosha's, like he was afraid of her breaking into a wild fury if she caught him looking directly at her or something. It probably had something to do with the look she'd sent him the other night at Bilbo's house. "Anyway, don't mind me. I would like to join in if it isn't any trouble."

   "No problem, sit down."

  And he did. He sat awkwardly between the brothers on their log, and with Kili's prompting, they continued the lesson.

   "Lemme give you another set of words in the form of a whole sentence. 'Kevin, come over here and peel this mothafucka's muffin-cap back blue.' It's like 'bussin someone's ass' but more violent. I think."

   Much to Kosha's amusement, Ori was entranced, and they all repeated the phrase "Peel this muthafucka's muffin-cap back blue" in the accents that were so foreign to her and absolutely did not match up with the sentence. It was virtually impossible to take any of this seriously on her end. She was crying with laughter on the inside, somehow managing to keep a neutral look on her face as her barely-contained hysterics threatened to spill at the slightest slip of concentration.

  "But what does it mean?" The blond dwarf asked again.

   "A number of things. Violent shit. My own interpretation is somethin' like 'beating the shit out of someone until they're black and blue.'"

  Not sure what the hell a muffin-cap was though.

  "You get it now?"

A collective "Yes" and another series of awkward fumbling with the dialect was the response.

   Fucking with them was nice.

  At least, Bilbo's choking  and wheezing somewhere in the background made it nice.

* * *

 

   "Relax yo' ass, babe." Rightfully, Bilbo had been complaining to her about saddle soreness. The thing was, it was happening too often. One could only find the hobbit's discomfort funny for so long until they started feeling bad about it. "That's why you keep getting cramps. You gon' be sore, that's like...inevitable. But you gotta relax so you can at least walk straight later on."

  "Move with the pony, Master Baggins." Bofur chirped, an amused smile plastered beneath his moustache as he leaned against his own saddle horn.

  The funny thing too, was that Bilbo was a bratty little shit when it came to riding.

   "Well of course I'm relaxing! The saddle is just hard and uncomfortable!"

   The indignant redness dusting his cheeks had Kosha lifting an unimpressed eyebrow.

   Her hand on his thigh squeezed, this resulted in her fingers digging a little too hard into the flesh, and pulled a surprised squeak from the back of Bilbo's throat.

  "Relaxing? Yeah, keep tellin' yourself that." The muscles in his leg had been pulled taught even before she gripped his leg. The presence of her hand was just something to let him know that she was on to his lying ass. But he still refused to cooperate.

   "Was that necessary?" Bilbo asked through his teeth, all too aware that they were being watched again. They were holding up the company's progress—not even a day until Bree now— after all.  Though some had caught on to the delay and were milling about their now picked apart campsite. They sat and enjoyed the undeserved and unnecessary repreive and show caused by Kosha's insistence that her hobbit learn to stop clenching in the saddle.

  "Yes. It sure as shit was."

Bilbo opened his mouth to argue that _N_ _o, he was sure that was not at all necessary,_  but Kosha beat him to the punch.

  " _Yes_  it was." She chided, her voice firm. Bilbo yielded with a huff and a turn of his head. He crossed his arms, mortified. Had his face been that easy to read?

   Suddenly, a hand was at his back, then another. He hadn't even seen her move.

   Using her height as an advantage, she easily slid her hands up to Bilbo's shoulders as he angrily perched atop his pony, applying pressure with her palms on their journey up his spine.

   "So, we can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way," she started, lowering her voice an octave and burning a hole into the side of his face in the process. "The choice is yours." the pressure of her fingers as she began to knead the muscle of his shoulders through his coat had Bilbo sagging in defeat.

  Bad idea, giving in, as it triggered another quip from Bofur. "I see you're choosing the easy way, Master Baggins."

   "Best to let the lady have her way." Said Balin, who was sat beside a chuckling Gandalf as they indulged in their pipes. "It'll go faster."

  "She's helpin' at least. It was getting almost painful watching the hobbit ride how he was." Scratching the nose of his pony, Nori laughed. Fili and Kili joined him.

  Bilbo bristled.

  The sudden tension beneath her hands had Kosha knitting her brow. She couldn't give two shits about their comments right now, she just wanted Bilbo to ride comfortably. To stop bitching about his ass and back being sore at the end of the day. She didn't want it to get to the point where she was massaging his cheeks instead of just his shoulders. And she wasn't talking about the ones on his face.

   "Okay, Bilbo.  ** _Fuck_** them. Fuck what they gotta say right now. Just pay attention to me." The pressure increased as her thumbs dug into the nape of his neck, palms pressing and rubbing smoothly over his shoulder blades. "Take a deep breath."

   He obeyed, and with Kosha's guidance, a steady rhythm of breathing rose between them.

   "Relax your ass cheeks."

He tried to relax his ass cheeks. The massage and the breathing helped. A smidge.

   Bilbo's pony snorted, blowing air through her nose as if to say, "Can we hurry this along?"

  A similar sound not far off seemed to agree. Giving in to the temptation of wanting to glance in the direction of the noise revealed Thorin Oakenshield once again pretending to be busy with other things as he and Kosha made a spectacle out of themselves for the second time so far.

   He was growing concerned about that. Mostly about Thorin averting his eyes like he was too shy to make eye contact with him while Kosha was within 5 feet of him... You know...since he didn't have a problem with all the direct glaring and intimidation any other time and it had barely been a week.

    "Woosah!" Kosha exhaled, "Say it with me as you breathe out. Woosah!"

  "Excuse me? What?"

  "WOOSAH!" She said again. Her volume increasing with a deliberate squeeze if her fingers. 

  Bilbo decided then that enough was enough and swatted her hands away. "Nope. No. That's enough," He stammered, "I feel fine now. Peachy. My bum is perfectly fine in the saddle now. We should get a move on."

    "Done with this ridiculous distraction?" Thorin's curt tone cut through Kosha's brewing tirade. "Good." With a shout, he had whoever was left lounging scrambling  to their mounts. Besides Balin, of course, who took his time with finishing the remainder of his pipeweed before sauntering over to his pony like Thorin hadn't just barked an order.

   Their leader didn't bat an eye at that.

  Interesting.

* * *

 

    "I have a friend named Bree."  
      
Entering the village gates wasn't a complicated affair.

   The suspicious gatekeeper was quick to ask what the hell a herd of dwarves, one hobbit, a woman, and an old man were doing passing through there, and for a second, Kosha thought they were being profiled, that they were going to be searched. However, a claim from Gandalf that they were just travelers and load of other bullshit about trade was enough to placate the guy. Kosha was off her horse and pittering over the cobblestone street before she had time for a full blink.

  What the fuck kind of security was that!?

  Now, she sat with Bilbo and the others in the Prancing Pony, having just been fitted for a new and more solid pair of boots and currently enjoying a dry slab of meat topped off with the strongest alcohol they had for the simple reason she could afford it.

   Gandalf had disappeared, and Thorin was being a jittery little bitch about stopping once again.

  Gandalf told him why they had stopped, right?

  Kosha sure as shit hoped he did. She didn't feel like listening to Thorin of all people bitch. She had a hunch he had the capability to give Bilbo a run for his money when it came to bitching. He probably just bitched about more practical things—like when the hell they were gonna keep moving forward to their deaths because he was an impatient fuck.

   "Bree?" That pulled a chuckle from the hobbit, "Funny that she shares a name with this place. I take it you were close with her? Him?"

   "Kinda," Kosha said over the rim of her cup, "I grew up in the same neighborhood as her." She didn't plan on saying more, but when Bilbo leaned in with his elbows against the table as if he was now more interested in her awkward storytelling than his food, she continued. "Um. You know how shit happens, like with kids who grow up next door to each other. It's like an undocumented or undiscussed testament that when you got a bunch o' bad ass kids in the same 'hood, they all friends."

   "A close-knit community then. You've lived in the Shire long enough and spent just the right amount of time with all those children to know that I am very familiar with that environment."

   "Yeah so..." She took a swig of her beverage before setting it down and pushing it out of ber view.

   She wondered how Bree was doing right then.

   How was her sister? Her mom?

"She was my longest friend."

Mourning most likely. You don't just bounce back from a bullet to the neck and wake up somewhere else and not expect to be in some form of the afterlife.

   She wasn't gonna lie to herself. She couldn't have been anywhere in America at this point. Her hopes were riding on this man she had yet to meet. He was the only one she could possibly assume had answers. Or, at the very least, an ear she could talk off about her newfound issues.

   "Kosha?" Bilbo's voice was soft, laced with concern. "Are you well?"

   She lifted her head, unaware that she had looked like a waterlogged orphan just a second ago. Thoughts she should have had months ago suddenly assaulting her had her in a sour mood all of a sudden. All when she was so close to figuring shit out, too.

   It didn't feel healthy.

"Maybe? I dunno." She replied.

Bilbo wasn't having that.

  "Homesick?"

  "Not really."

  Another bout of that malfunction Bilbo should really get fixed. The look he was giving her was nothing short of shocked confusion.

  "For all I know you got ripped away from your home. And for some reason your only option for shelter was mine. But you are saying, right now, in your right mind, that you don't miss it?"

   It could've been the alcohol.

"Maybe it's just the ale." Bilbo added as an afterthought, eyes falling down to his plate.

   "Maybe." Kosha agreed.

  Bilbo sniffed, scrunching his nose like he'd just encountered something particularly distasteful, but nothing else was said about it.

They ate in tense silence. Of course, there could only be so much quiet between two people who were currently dining at what Kosha could only describe as a crowded bar. Servants of only two classifications—hobbits and women—walked about... You know... Serving. Occasionally, she would catch a few of them, trays in hand, avidly staring at her. It was the beginning of her stay in Hobbiton all over again.

   Where the fuck was Gandalf?

She got her answer when a soft tapping came to her shoulder.

   Gandalf. Duh.

  It was like he read her fucking mind and for a brief moment the woman was a little anxious that he could.

   For once, Gandalf looked serious. There was no aggressive creasing of his laugh lines, and his eyes were hard; set like he was an uncaring bearer of bad news. But his words were far from anything that could possibly piss her off.

   "I have informed our dwarf that you have arrived. He wishes to speak with you in a private setting, we must go to him."

  Kosha stood from her seat, the hobbit and her food completely forgotten.

   "Who?" Bilbo perked up at Gandalf's words. There was nothing to hide from him, but Kosha was instantaneously consumed with her earlier anxiety. She wanted to spring up and leave Bilbo in the dust in favor of meeting What's-His-Face all the sooner, but it seemed unfair to leave him in the dark like that.

   So she didn't.

   There was no complicated explanation. So she just gave it to him straight. "This guy wanted to talk to me since it's just about likely we come from the same...the same neighborhood."

   It dawned on Bilbo as soon as the words left her mouth. "Oh, yes. Is he that dwarf I had heard you both speaking of? Should I come with?"

   "No, Bilbo," Gandalf saved Kosha from having to say anything, "It is something Kosha must do herself. As for me, I will return to ready you all for when they finish speaking. When she returns to us we will continue our journey."

    Crestfallen wasn't the word...dejected wasn't the word... Though when Kosha saw Bilbo nod, seemingly understanding exactly what Gandalf was saying to him, he managed to look like he was sad, irritated— and most importantly, confused— all at the same time.

   "Alright then. I'll pick up your boots if you aren't here by the time they're prepared. "

   The wizard nodded to him to signal he had heard what Bilbo said, even if he wasn't being addressed, then gently set his non-staff hand at the small of Kosha's back, leading her towards the exit.

* * *

  
    
   She was led passed many homes, passed many shops, until Gandalf stopped them at a building that looked identical to all the others.

   It was still daylight out, and Thorin was pacified with the idea that they'd stopped at the inn for lunch, then would be quickly on their way. Under the assumption that Gandalf hadn't told the dwarf Kosha was going to have a meeting with someone before they moved on, he was in for a surprise.

   They entered the building, and while it was small on the outside, Kosha was vaguely reminded of a run down and abandoned lobby once she walked through that door.

   The floors looked like they hadn't been swept in years, and one look around had her fearing for the infrastructure. She had this sudden itch to clean, or to bolt. She wasn't sure which was stronger. Yet, despite her own justified unease, Gandalf was completely calm, tapping his staff against the dusty floorboards and calling up at the rotting staircase, "Marc, my boy! Come down!"

   There was a beat of silence. Kosha almost thought that this "Marc" might've had second thoughts and was either hiding or had just ditched the scene. He clearly didn't live here. There was not a scrap of furniture in sight, let alone any sign at all someone could even safely make room to live in the space. 

   The creaking up in the second story dispelled any thoughts that they were alone. Soon the creaking turned into a heavy set of footsteps. And again, Kosha was worried that Marc's attempt at a suspenseful appearance would be foiled by him falling through the floor.

   The heavy boots made their way to the staircase, and began to descend. When he came into view, it was undeniable...

  This guy was definitely a dwarf.

  His hair, tawny and frizzed, all of which Kosha was sure was longer than hers by a landslide just by looking at it, was pulled into a bun, out of his face, out of the way. It didn't matter much though, since his fucking beard was just as long but horrendously more voluminous than she'd expected.

    Beady brown eyes peered at her from under a pair of heavy eyebrows, one of which was split with a scar that ran down his right eye and into his cheek.

   Oh.

    Another scar ran diagonal over his temple on his left side, and finally,  what Kosha thought was most intriguing, was the scar that fell across his bulbous beak of a nose. It looked as if the puckered flesh was reaching from one cheekbone to the other, never quite getting it, but just long enough for Kosha to be a bit concerned as to how the fuck he'd gotten it in the first place.

    He reached the bottom of the stairs and approached the pair still standing in the foyer  with cautious steps. With this came the discovery that his forehead would brush against the very bottom of her ribcage. Just about as tall as Dwalin, but twice as hairy was this guy.

   "You are... Kosha, yes?"

  Oh. And he was Russian. If the accent was anything to go by.

  Wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I TOLD YOU MY ART STYLE WAS BETTER THAN THIS
> 
> MARC IS A BEAUTIFUL BEING.
> 
> *20 MINUTES AFTER HAVING THIS UP*
> 
> I just realized I called Kosha a waterlogged orphan.


	11. Not What I Expected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW! FAST UPDATE! WHAT IS THIS? MAGIC? 
> 
> No, I just got really excited and I couldn't help myself.

They tentatively shook hands.

Kosha noticed that her hands were marginally smaller than Marc's. Overall, he was a broad thing. However short he was, he clearly made up in muscle mass.

   It was easy to tell that he could tear her in half, even with all the fur he was wearing that undoubtedly gave him extra bulk. Something about the way he shook her hand gave her that impression. There was a...carefully held strength to it. It was firm, and he was just barely managing not to crush her palm in his heavily calloused fingers.

   That raised the question of what the heck this guy did back before he crossed over. Kosha's first guess was bodybuilder.

   She hadn't realized they had both been intensely staring at each other until Gandalf cleared his throat, tearing her away from getting her eyeful.

   They dropped their hands, Kosha's retreating with a jerky motion as if noticing that the greeting lasting longer than normal had given her an electric shock. She missed Marc's pointed stare as she turned to give the wizard her attention.

   "I shall leave you both to talk," he placed a gentle hand on Kosha's shoulder, the rough pads of his fingertips squeezing as he gave her another one of the most solemn looks she'd seen on his face so far. "I cannot guarantee Thorin Oakenshield will sit and wait for you for long. Discuss what you need to, then return to the inn."

   After nodding her understanding, she watched Gandalf turn and leave the derelict house, only panicking twice about being left with this very strong, and very tempermental looking man—

  Dwarf.

  Whatever.

  "Android or Apple?"

  "I'm sorry?"

  "Android or Apple?"

  She couldn't help it, it was the only thing she could think of to fill the silence since Marc kept staring at her with this awed look on his face. Like she'd just ascended from the heavens and he was battling with himself about whether or not she was real. Now he just looked nonplussed from her random question. Somehow,  Kosha preferred that.

   Marc stood there blinking for a few seconds before deciding that maybe he should humor her, much to the woman's relief. "Uhm, I would say Android. But I should tell you, before you get excited or whatever your reaction is about to be, that I lived a majority of my life back home on prepaid phones you would buy from Tesco.. Or somwhere like a Tesco."

  The accent wasn't a problem. Okay, it was a little bit of a problem. All thirteen of those other dwarves she'd heard speak at least once, and what came out was either heavy as hell Irish, Scottish, or some other kind of dialect that came from playing darts with a map of the U.K. Hearing the faint splash and roll of a Russian accent of all things coming out of another one was a bit off-putting. Also the mention of "Tesco."

  "The hell is a 'Tesco'?"

  Marc had the nerve to look scandalized. It was such a very Bilbo thing that Kosha had only seen Bilbo do, that she nearly fell back in surprise.

  "You must not have them, in the States." Marc said, more calmly than his face implied how he should be speaking. "But I'm not going to explain it right now. We have more important things to talk about."

  Damn straight.

  "So are we just gonna do it in the middle of the... " she looked around the dusty ground level with a disgusted grimace. "...floor? Or can I sit my ass down somewhere before we start dropping bombs on each other?"

  "Upstairs." Was all Marc said before moving to ascend those suspiciously creaky stairs.

   Kosha followed. She was reluctant, but she eventually got passed the second step. Then the third. Then the fourth. Eventually, she was at the end of that anxiety-inducing climb, facing a very grumpy looking dwarf at the top of the staircase for her trouble. 

   "Don't look at me like that," Kosha snapped, her words losing their heat when Marc's face remained blank and he lifted one bushy eyebrow in inquiry. "The more yo heavy ass goes up and down the stairs, the higher chance I fall through those fuckin' things."

  They stared at each other for three heated seconds.

    "Eh." Was Marc's grumbled response. He didn't wait to gouge her reaction. He didn't even wait for a reply, he just continued down the hall, entering the last door at the very end of it.

   Kosha wasn't sure how she felt about that.

   "Eh?" She parroted, moving into a light jog to follow after him. "That's all you gotta  say about me potentially falling through the stairs and killin' myself?"

   She followed Marc into the the room, a bedroom, musty and creaking, lacking a window, and dimly lit by candle light. In the center of the room sat a small table, caged by two worn down chairs Marc had probably hauled up from downstairs. The bed was nothing but a bedframe with sheets sticking every which way, but Kosha didn't mind the weirdness of that very much. She was too focused on the Lady and the Tramp vibes she was getting from this scene. All they needed was a giant plate of spaghetti and some _That's Amore_  playing softly in the background and she'd almost find it romantic.

   "Sit down."

   Her eyes snapped up to see Marc tapping his foot impatiently as he sat in one of the chairs. Seriously? If the guy was so anxious to get this over with... Kosha hid the insulted sneer she so desperately wanted to throw at him, she just met him after all. Thinking back on her inital anxiety, she should have been jumping for joy, violating his personal space with hugs and unwelcome kisses wherever her mouth wouldn't touch hair, because this guy knew what a prepaid phone was!

   As soon as the thought came to pass, she quickly developed the urge to do all of those things.

   She didn't, though, since Marc already seemed annoyed with her.

   "Do you havetuh order me around so aggressively though?" She said, a smirk playing at her lips. "We just met, but you ain't gotta be all hard and shit."

   The dwarf's mouth fell open slightly, eyes softening and quickly falling away from her as contrition cast over his face. "S.. Sorry. I did not mean..." He interrupted himself with a groan. "I have been alone in this for a long time."

   Displaced contrition.

  "Calm down, man. I'm just playin'." Kosha snorted and placed herself carefully in the empty chair. "You can feel bad after you answer a few questions."

   "Mm."

  "So, first one." She held up a finger, "Why didn't you just meet me, like, at the tavern or whatever? I expected you to have a room or something so you could talk to me somewhere less dusty."

   Marc crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair. He met her gaze head on, and said, with complete seriousness, "I don't like how crowded it is and the walls are thin. People listen to things they aren't supposed to."

   Reasonable.

  "Okay. Second one," her middle finger came to stand along side her index finger, "Why in here? Why _up_  here?"

   "Upstairs in an abandoned home is one of the greatest places for privacy."

   "So where the hell do you live?"

   "I wander," Marc leaned back in, this time with his arms resting on the table. "I only stayed here so I could meet you."

   "Why didn't you just come over to me instead of waiting?"

    "I was told you would be brought to me. And..." Behind his beard and hard eyes, it was hard to see, but Kosha managed to spot the sheepishness that crept onto his marred face. "I didn't think about it until _after_  Gandalf had left. I didn't know you were near."

    Kosha threw her hands up and mock exasperation. "Well thanks to you I signed myself up for a real long hiking trip!"

    Marc perked up at that. Then just as quickly he began muttering to himself. It continued long enough for Kosha to be concerned, especially when he began moving his hands around as if he was actually having a conversation.

   Then he sprang up and blurted, "Thorin Oakenshield! Of course!"

   Confused, Kosha motioned for him to continue. "You know him?"

   "Not personally," the dwarf lowered himself back into his chair. "And I only know of him what I read in the first chapter of... Of... The Hobbit, it is called. I think that is the title."

    "Are you...?" Kosha's chair squeaked as she leaned back, perturbed by what he was implying. "Tell me that's a history book that exists here. Or some kinda... I dunno. The fuck you talkin' about?"

  "You're saying you never read it?" He shot her a side-eyed look as he stood and began pacing around the room, each complaint of the floorboards had the woman visibly cringing.

   Well, duh she hadn't read that shit, whatever the shit was!

   "It's a children's book, Kosha." Marc said, his elation obvious in his voice, "I can't be sure of everything, since I never saw the movies and I didn't get passed most of the first chapter of the book. You are going on a quest to kill a dragon, yes?"

   "More like bust a lick on a dragon. And I ain't going anywhere near that shit. Soo—"

   "How did you find the opportunity? How long have you been here?"

    His excitement was tangible, though there was some worried undertone Kosha couldn't exactly pinpoint a reason for. He didn't look to notice or care that his pep was raising his voice near to squeaky. If Kosha were him she would be embarrassed.

   "A year and... " She paused to think. "Over six months."

    Marc's face fell between wanting to say something and grimacing something awful. That triggered the tell tale sting of worry smack dab in the middle of the woman's chest. Had she said something wrong?

   The dwarf didn't say anything. Out of fear of breaking apart whatever thoughts and connections clicking in place through his mind for those long, heavy seconds, Kosha didn't say anything either.

    "That is... " when the words came, they were mumbled, laced with shock and disbelief. "... such a short time. Shorter than I expected."

   "You're scarin' me a little bit. What's up?"

  "Ё-моё." Marc's thick fingers came over his mouth, burying themselves into the whiskers at his cheeks. "Fuck. Just... Fuck."

   "Marc? You alright?"

Kosha sat absolutely still in her chair. Marc went back to being silent, shaking his head and feebly trying to steady the tremor in his hands. The hand at his face dug itself further into his facial hair.

   "Marc, my dude? Do I gotta come over there?" Even with the question hanging in the air, Kosha wasn't as inclined to jump up and do whatever she needed to to get him to calm down.

   The thing was, she had no idea what to do in this situation. If he was breaking down or moving into a panic attack, she had no idea how to handle it. All she could do was offer comfort from a distance.

   "Kosha."  
  
    If the room hadn't been deathly quiet, the only sound being Marc's uneven breathing, she wouldn't have heard him when he spoke.

   "I don't want this for you."

That's when she decided to stand, taking careful steps towards Marc yet still keeping a good distance between them. No point in spooking him and violating his boundaries now. Things were becoming a little too serious.

   "Want what? What are you talking about?"

    The dwarf turned away, shuffling back into a quicker, more stilted version of his earlier pacing.

   "You have a family, I don't doubt that. You have people who miss you. They want you to come home. You disappeared and they want you to come home, but you're stuck _here_  like me!"

    He was panicking. Kosha made a weak attempt at reaching for him, but that was all. She made no move to indicate she was actually going to touch him.

  "Marc, you need to calm yo'self down, dude. It's not your fault I'm here. You didn't shoot me. You didn't go up to God or whoever is up there and tell him to dump me here—"

   "—How can you accept that you won't see your family again?" He whirled around and faced her. His expression sagging, broken. The look something Kosha didn't expect to come about during this conversation. "So fast, too! That is—it's not fair!" He continued, his voice trembling,"It took me so long to forgive myself for what I did to Nicolas. I..."

   He stopped, grunted, and moved both of his hands to his head as if it pained him.

   Kosha let the words sink in. If she were to believe him, she wouldn't be able to go back to her mom, or assure her sister that she was at all okay. No way of contact. No way of even hearing their voices again.  That...

.... She realized she didn't care.

   "I'm sorry," Marc murmured, his arms wrapped around himself now. "I...am not myself."

   Kosha let herself kneel. Slowly, she lowered herself to her knees in front of him. Where she was once intimidated and mildly afraid of the guy, there was now a swell of sympathy for him. Something within him had snapped, the stiff and stoic front he had put up was now crumbling before her very eyes. When hearing about him from Gandalf, she expected someone like her, wanting to go home, yet not aching for it. A guy who was steady of mind and waiting to meet her so he could share his plan of escape. Or, at the very least, a guy who could explain what had even happened in the first place.

   But no, Marc didn't meet any of those expectations. He was just another lost soul who'd gotten ripped away from his loved ones. People he'd loved very much, if his reaction was any indicator.

   "How long have _you_  been here?" She asked him as softly as she could, but she wasn't any less curious.

  Marc paused. His eyebrows knitting tightly and his eyes shooting for the floor. Kosha didn't say anything about the glossy sheen to his eyes. She didn't need to. He already knew it was there.

   He drew in a quivering breath. "Almost thirty years."

  "Holy.... Holy shit."

  She hugged him. A warm, tight embrace was the only thing she could think of in that moment. 

* * *

 

  Kosha left Marc only when she felt he was ready to be alone. The guy was touch-starved, apparently, and he didn't pull away from any physical contact Kosha presented to him. 

   She regretted not jumping into the hugs the moment he descended the stairs. 

  They didn't talk about much after the outburst. Asking about anything pertaining to his time in Middle Earth didn't feel right at the time, and Marc was too busy lulling himself in his mother tongue to start up a conversation himself.

   All of that got way too personal for a first encounter. But Kosha's sensibilites be damned, Marc didn't have a hobbit to give him constant TLC. Not to mention he actually felt bad about leaving his family behind. Kosha would ask how he'd gotten here eventually, but that would be a long time from now. She had other people to meet, a quest to go on.

  She'd see him on the other side.

At least, Marc's parting declaration of, "I will see you very soon," told her she'd see him on the other side.

   "Oh thank goodness!" Bilbo cried as Kosha approached the Company, totally getting ready to leave her behind. "I thought I'd have to go searching for you before they left us."

   Kosha blinked, "Us? They were gonna leave you, too?"

   Clicking his tongue, Bilbo raised his hands to his hips and shot her a look as if it was obvious, " _I_ would never willingly leave you behind!"

   "So what stopped them from leaving then?"

   "A lot of yelling." The hobbit assured, his lip curling slightly, "I might have fallen out of Master Oakenshield's favor threefold because of how adamant I was about waiting for you. But you also signed a contract, did you not?"

   The woman hummed. "Yeah, I guess I did. Glad you didn't go along and leave me. Would've been a bitch move. Then I would've had to buss a cap in yo ass."

   She laughed heartily at Bilbo's indignant squawk.

"You got my boots, didn't you?" She said after taking a moment to catch her breath.

   The hobbit nodded swiftly and jerked his thumb back towards the gathering of dwarves, "One of the boys said they would hold on to them. Just ask and then you can change out of those...." He gestured to her feet with a grimace, "... Things."

   "Will do, babe." She smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes, and followed Bilbo back to their group.

   "Now that that's out of the way," he started, slowly. "Want to share the details of your meeting with this dwarf of yours?"

   Kosha sighed, the pieces of her barely-kept-together emotions falling apart entirely.

   "In a little bit. I got a lot to process right now."

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> K. So. Before we go any further. I personally find it annoying when dialogue in another language is written in its own alphabet in a story that is in English. It takes away some of the flow, and I like to at least TRY to pronounce whatever the character is saying in my head. So that's how it's gonna be with all characters speaking in their native tongue. For those of you readers that actually speak the languages.... I'm sorry for any misrep or inaccuracy. But I'm also not sorry. Thank you for dealing with my incompetence. :D
> 
> Translation (if you didn't google it by now) 
> 
> "Ë-моё": Was told it has no real meaning. So I used it as a frustrated exclaimation. Think of it as something similar to something like "fuckshit" because that's hilarious.


	12. Nothing's Right With the World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christ. I'm sorry. 
> 
> I meant to post this chapter like... Mid February. But then my birthday happened and I fucked around and completely forgot this fic existed. 
> 
> There was a surprising amount of drama. 
> 
> And my sister is getting out of hand with the random shit she spits about Bilbo being her child's father. 
> 
> I wrote some of it down. 
> 
> If you don't believe me, I might post them on the end notes of the next chapter. Because wow. 
> 
> Wow. 
> 
> Anyway. Enjoy, you beautiful bastards.

  When Kosha first of crossed over, she didn't like the darkness that night brought. She didn't appreciate how it left all her surroundings blanketed in an unsettling pitch black, rendering everything within a three meter radius completely unknown.

  She didn't like how the darkness made her tense. She never felt as alert as she wanted to be when her vision was limited. There was always this fear of something lurking in the shadows; watching, taunting, and waiting to strike when she least expected it.

  So, she always expected it. That's how she made it as far in her life as she did.

  It was a bit ironic that it ended in the daylight then.

  Her old life had her clinging to the sunshine and liveliness of the day. Now, as she sat cross legged on her bedroll, her hobbit tucked at her side in an attempt to hide from the slight chill, with a decently gorged belly and ears filled with idle chatter and the crackling of the fire, she had discovered an appreciation for the stillness of nighttime.

  What she liked best about it nowadays was the sky; the starlight something she had never appreciated or noticed back home. Occasionally, when the moon was at its fullest, her neighborhood would be bathed in its light. Porch lights had no use during full moons, and their occurence were the only times Kosha felt safe in the darkness of her own room. They were childish fancies, yes, and Kosha had grown up seeing little horrors in her life, but there was always that creeping sensation of being watched when you couldn't evaluate your surroundings.

  Here, in Middle Earth, the stars alone provided enough light that cast over the horizon. The moon was barely waxing into fullness. The night was clear, and the sky was beautiful. Kosha had never seen anything more captivating.

  Not to mention, she was surrounded by a bunch of heavily armed warriors who may not like her but were still willing to protect her. She slept well at night despite the creeping cold. The only problem was sleeping on the ground. She didn't think she'd ever get used to the roaring discomfort of stray rocks she'd missed when evaluating the placement of her bedroll digging into her back, and leaving marks that ached when morning came.  
 

   Beside her, Bilbo provided a persistent heat that seemed to seep and spread throughout Kosha's body out of sheer willpower. She allowed an arm to drape over his shoulders as some small assistance. They were as close to the fire as they dared, yet the air was stiff, and the two of them looked to be the only ones who were affected. Sadly. Since seeing the dwarves share their suffering would have coaxed a laugh or two, and probably would have made her feel better. Or at the very least, distracted her from thinking about that raggedy dwarf with sad eyes and a surprisingly silky beard.

   She couldn't stop her thoughts from drifting to Marc since she left him, really. 

    He told her next to nothing about himself, which was troubling. She didn't ask him how he'd died—if he'd come to Middle Earth via death in the first place. He didn't ask about her in return. Nothing productive occured. Their conversation only helped to trigger a near panic attack that kept any further questions from being noninvasive, nor were they appropriate, and tears that Kosha herself didn't have the capacity to shed for the simple reason that her own realization had her numb from mind to soul.

  Yeah... That.

   She didn't miss Denise.

  Her own emotions were a hard pill to swallow. She didn't understand what was going on with her then. Aside from being dressed and fed and housed by someone who didn't even have to do those things, she had no inkling of why she _wouldn't_  miss her family, why she wasn't desperate and clawing for a chance to go home.

  She had been once, maybe. At the start of everything, when she'd nearly drowned in that lake, when she resorted to praying for a way home.

   She had admitted to Bilbo at the inn that she wasn't as eager to reunite with her family as she might've been in the past, but the reality of simply _not giving a fuck anymore_  was just now sinking in. Now that she'd explored her fill of theories about what Marc said about 'Seeing her soon' and avoiding Bilbo's questions about the subject, it was just her and the stars, and the warmth at her side, pondering how the cogs in her brain functioned.

   She briefly wondered if Denise made it out alive. Jermaine was crazy enough to kill her. Hell, the bullet was originally meant for Denise until Kosha jumped in and started insulting the man. But, there was a sliver of hope. Because if Denise had died too, who's to say she wouldn't have emerged from that lake alongside her sister? Who's to say Denise wouldn't have been at her other side, providing comfort just as Bilbo was?

   She held onto that; logic, physics and all that jazz. It wouldn't make sense otherwise.

  If Denise had been killed, she would be with Kosha right now. 

   She chided herself for waiting two years to even think about it. 

   "Are you feeling well, lass? You look worried about something."

Kosha scoffed. "Ain't I always lookin' worried about something?"

  She didn't look away from the sky with her murmured reply, but she knew by the voice that it was Balin shifting in his boots only a few feet away. The bundle against her waist shifted, indicating Bilbo was interrupted in his dozing. At the scent of pipeweed or Balin's outside voice, Kosha wasn't sure.

   "Well that's true enough," Bilbo murmured, his voice heavy with drowsiness, "You always look distracted—" a yawn cut through his sentence. With a sigh, he nuzzled himself against Kosha's side until his curls were bunching messily against her coat, and draped an arm over her thigh just for the sake of being closer. "... when it's quiet."

  Kosha's eyes dropped to see he was perfectly comfortable in this position. He didn't seem to realize that, if they were lying down, Bilbo would be acting as a poor excuse of the big spoon right then. He probably didn't know that he was cuddling her so intimately.

  Intimately, as in, being closer than Bilbo would usually be in his right mind. After tending to the newly dubbed Myrtle and her tack, and sneaking her apples as he padded about camp looking for things to help with and improve his usefulness, on top of filling his belly, the exhaustion must've caused  his precious propriety to slip his mind.

   Kosha didn't address the sudden weight of affection that sat heavy on her cheeks, because Bilbo was the most adorable being she had ever seen in her life, but she wasn't willing to say it out loud yet.

   "Well I got a lot to think about right now." She said instead of pushing those thoughts any further.

   "I don't mean to force my nose in, you understand," Balin's voice had her looking up at him, a neutral expression now set on her face with how slowly he said it, as if he had some reason to be cautious with asking about her thoughts. "But a heavy mind wouldn't be good for the journey."

   The woman snorted, waving a dismissive hand. "You ain't gotta act like my therapist, Balin. Plus, Thorin's the one you should be worried about. He looks like a moody piece o' shit. But he must look like a moody piece o' shit for a reason."

  The dwarf in question was leant over a rock, large and looming even in the star light. All it did was emphasize her point. Where Kosha was looking up at the sky in wonderment, Thorin was brooding over the vast horizon of tree tops and the makeshift pen that their mounts sat in. As a matter of fact, he was the only one other than Balin who was standing. Everyone else seemed to melt and relax into the quiet, eased into their bedrolls as they were probably more exhausted than they were led to believe over the course of the day.

  "That isn't very far from the truth." Balin said.

"So don't worry about me right now. Worry 'bout cha boy over there." Kosha's arm tightened around Bilbo, who had returned to his mostly unconcious state. His only response to her shifting was a groan.

  "My apologies." The old dwarf replied, stepping back once again and returning to his pipe.

He didn't pester her about it any further.

* * *

 

  The screeching didn't scare her.

But Bilbo's sudden jolt upright did.

  It wasn't that late, she was sure. It must have only been, like, a minute or two since she closed her eyes. She came to that conclusion when she spotted Thorin still perched at his rock, Balin still smoking, and the general lack of snoring was a definite sign that it hadn't been that long since she fell asleep upright.

  "U-Erm, what was that?"

Bilbo was wide awake now, and she could feel the spike in his heartbeat against her hip. In her dazed state, Kosha shrugged, though it wasn't like Bilbo could see it. He looked around frantically, searching for the source of the noise. He didn't settle even when he saw nothing in the general vicinity.

   There must've been a story behind that.

  Bilbo answered his own question with a, "Are there wolves out here?"

  Kosha rubbed the tiredness out of her eyes and fixed a look in his general direction.  She couldn't focus her eyes very well as the comforting tendrils of sleep had only wrapped around her a minute earlier, and were unwilling to let go very quickly.

   "I don't think wolves sound like that, man." She yawned.

   Again, she wasn't as concerned about it with the whole "surrounded by seasoned warriors" thing.

  "Orcs." Came the voice, and the hobbit stiffened.

  "Orcs?!"

Unconsciously, Bilbo's hand came to wrap around the wrist hanging off his shoulder. Kosha didn't mind.

   "Throat-cutters," Fili clarified for his brother, "There'll be dozens of them out there." He gestured with his pipe out into the distance. "The lone-lands are crawling with them."

   They looked serious.

  But Kosha felt like they weren't being serious.

   "So are you warning us or just being assholes?" She was in all honesty too tired to be dealing with the kind of people who thought saying scary shit and inflicting fear into people was funny. She saw the twitching at the corners of Kili's lips as he nodded along, she wasn't stupid. "Cause I don't appreciate that."

   "You don't need to," Kili said, façade in place, "Cause it's true." He went on to say how brutal orc attacks could be when conducted in the night. _Silent. No screams. Only blood._

  Even if that did ring true, telling Bilbo it was just a pack of wolves—as was his assuption—would've been better. He was terrified enough of wolves if her assumptions on his reactions were correct. And to be honest, Kosha was too. If she couldn't handle a well trained Labrador, what's stopping her from hopping gates to get away from a wolf? And adding orcs to the equation, with her little experience with the connotation of the word 'orc'...

     The point was, they didn't have to say that shit, because now she was nervous.

   The brothers stared at the both of them, Kosha's tired glare softening with a hint of her own fear slipping through the mask, and Bilbo just straight up terrified.

   It was a quick moment of silence.

Then they started chuckling.

  Kosha's face fell blank as she felt for the nearest rock and chucked it as hard as she could at them. Which wasn't very hard given her positioning, and she missed by a landslide, instead hitting the wall of stone Fili and Kili were using as shelter behind them. They didn't notice the impact, nor care that she'd made an attempt at throwing something at them, and continued with the mocking laughter.

   Thankfully, it was cut short by everyone's favorite Thorin Oakenshield, resulting in an almost embarrassment-inducing scolding, and a story Kosha didn't want to hear but ended up listening to anyway.

  The Battle of Azanulbizar.

One of the many reasons Thorin was a morose asshole.

  

* * *

 

   _... We few had survived. And I thought to myself then, 'There is one who I could follow." Dramatic pause. "There is one... I could call king."_

   _So that's where the story ended. The epic tale. The origin story of origin stories. Sad and depressing. Full of death and despondence._

   _That left one last question._

  _"So, the Pale Orc... What happened to him?"_

   _Bilbo's inquiry was aimed towards Balin, but before the dwarf could even draw in a breath to respond, Thorin was answering without a beat._

   _"He slunk back into the hole whence he came." He growled, walking down the path his Company made back to his post on his collapsed boulder. "That filth died of his wounds long ago."_

 

  Well that didn't make any damn sense.

  All Thorin did was amputate the fucker.

  And she saw the look Gandalf was giving Balin. The old man was hiding something!

   Probably the fact that Azog was still alive!

   So why wasn't he saying anything!?

Kosha sat on her horse, now affectionately named Lily by Bilbo due to her sweet temperament (that's what he told her, anyway), fuming at things she really had no part in. She was even questioning what the point of signing the contract was.

   Did it guarantee her protection?

   Was she going to _enter_  the damn mountain with Bilbo when they got to it?

   All of it was just concerning because she had suddenly realized she _legally_  bound herself to this shitstorm.

   And she needed to talk to Gandalf about the many things the last few days had brought to her mind.

   Like how the fuck do you even lose an entire mountain?

    Soon the anger in her gut slipped into a deep cavern of absolute nothing as she realized she was supposed to be dismounted and getting ready to bathe in that stream a little down the way. Far enough from the camp that no one could accidentally peek at her through the trees.

   Thorin was being nice about her privacy. He'd let her wash herself first, alone. By herself.

    See, the thing was...

   Orcs existed.

     And according to some of Fili and Kili's lighter teasing about the newly-discovered  fact that she was afraid of dogs...

   .... Orcs' choice of mount tended to be a mutated lupine the size of a fully grown horse and almost as thick as a bear.

   Coupled with the fact that she wasn't sure what the hell would be in the water.

   Like... Snakes or something.

  Kosha wasn't about to deal with that alone. Her tits be damned! She wasn't well supplied in that area anyway! And she needed to wash her hair, dammit! If snakes and other weird, wiggly stream critters were coming at her, she'd like to know.  
    
  So, as she was stripping Lily of her saddle, she managed to catch Bilbo's eyes.

  There was a questioning tilt of the head on his part, a lift of an eyebrow on hers.

   Clearly, Bilbo wasn't understanding, so he had sense enough to approach.

"What is it?"

She returned her attention the belts and ties of the saddle.  "Come on and take a bath with me. "

   

* * *

 

  Thorin could handle the obvious need for them to be around each other. He could handle the blatant cuddling when they stopped for the night—something that increased in occurrence ever since that night on the crag.

  He could handle the petty arguing that the woman so loved to engage in with the burglar over menial things, such as what the superior tea leaf happened to be.

  And he thought he could handle the halfling spluttering and blushing at the woman's offer to bathe together.

   But somehow that... Irked him.

  It rubbed him the wrong way. A pulsing discomfort settled deep into the marrow of his bones at the thought of... Whatever she was proposing.

   It wasn't any of his business. He shouldn't have been giving the whole thing his slightest attention. He couldn't help, however, when Kosha was loud about certain things. When the hobbit had agreed, dubiously, Thorin was sure—after some quiet discussion—he wasn't surprised when their burglar hesitated behind Kosha's confident steps, but she was quick to notice he wasn't following and suddenly bellowed out, "Get'cho ass on, Bilbo, it's not like you ain't seen me naked before!"

   Did she know what shame was?

Certainly none of his company did. They laughed at many of the outrageous things she spewed from her mouth, not minding how completely and utterly _wrong_  everything was about this woman.

  Master Baggins turned a deep shade of red at that, severely undermining the irritation forming at the corners of his lips and wrinkling his brow, and trotted after her with his own belongings bundled neatly in his arms. Teasing words and whistling followed them until they disappeared in the trees. Thorin was grimacing the entire time.

  Over the course of the pair being noticably absent, and Thorin pointedly ignoring a joking and mutterings of _"How could a halfling possibly find a woman like that to pair off with?"_  he was able to go back to stringing his words together to make sense in his conversation with Dwalin. _What was it about again?_  His unintentional wonderings of what they could be doing to take so long out of sight slowly dislodged, allowing him to push them to the farthest corner of mind. Or so he thought.

   A minute, and hour, probably only twenty minutes after—the dwarf wasn't sure—he had seen both woman and hobbit vanish amidst the trees, Thorin was saved from having to respond accordingly to Dwalin's question about covering the expenses for a lifetime of free spirits for the entire company by a scream that sent birds fleeing the canopy in droves.

   There was a pause. 

   Then chaos. 

   Thorin was the first to arm himself, the others had to scramble to their feet to gracelessly grab at and fumble with their weapons and make a beeline for the trees.

  There was no doubt that scream came from exactly the direction Kosha and Master Baggins had gone in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may sound weird, but your comments inspire me to write this thing. It reminds me that I'm trash, but not complete trash, and it's hella comforting having people be trash with me. 
> 
> Thank you.
> 
> And I'm sorry about my lack of Tumblr.


	13. Stayin' Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I had an excuse I could feel confident in. But sadly I don't. I thought I could handle being on time when it came to posting once or twice a month, thrice on a good month. Yadda yadda. My reasoning for not updating recently is is the simple fact that I pulled the stick out of my ass and started watching VLD under Netflix's recommendation. 
> 
> Little did I know that getting emotionally attached to the series would be exactly like blindly walking and falling into a deep dark abyss of shipping, porn, and wholesome memes that'll make you smile so hard you'll accidentally start crying with how much you love the cast and crew and your fellow fans. 
> 
> Now my bookmarks and subscriptions are full of Voltron shit, and even my writing style has been unintentionally tweaked by all the fucking fanfiction I've read on VLD. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.
> 
> —
> 
> Another update, which is also another reason for my absence, I started another project, which is an original work based off of various Soulmate Au prompts. If you care, the first chapter may be up sometime this year, but probably not, as I'm still fleshing out the characters and chiseling and smoothing out all the rough edges that should make this baby interesting. 
> 
> Anyway. Enjoy this chapter. It's short, but I needed to get this out sooner rather than later.

* * *

* * *

 

Bilbo did not sign up for this.

Actually he might've. He just skipped the part on the contract where bathing with a woman as some shameful illusion of protection was jotted down in very small text.

In Khuzdul.

In some magical ink that could turn invisible.

Because he was sure he read everything on that meticulously folded paper. He even went over the 'gruesome death section' three times more before avoiding it altogether, just to be sure that he was justified in fainting the first time. After it sank in within the quiet of his own bedroom, he was quite embarrassed by his behavior, but an outlet was available to glare his frustrations into. 

Now, however, he had no such thing as Kosha peeled off her blouse without batting an eyelash.

  She was not lying when she'd shouted loud enough for the entire Company to hear that he had seen the woman naked (only twice before—and the second time was an accident by all meanings of the word, thank you very much. He made sure to avoid making it a habit while she lived in his house). But that didn't mean he was comfortable with her stripping in front of him.

And that definitely didn't mean he had to look at her while she did it.

But...

He couldn't help himself when he heard a grunt, the ruffling of clothing and the leather of her belt hissing as Kosha fumbled with removing it. "You gonna undress or are you just gonna stand guard?"

   The inquisitive quirk of her eyebrow and the sardonic tone she so loved to use when inadvertently mocking him did wonders with making Bilbo all the more agitated.

  He did _not_  want to undress.

  But he'd brought a change of clothes.

  And as if muscle memory stuck with him no matter where he seemed to be, he'd grabbed Kosha's hair essentials.

And he would probably be more comfortable bathing with her than all of those aggressive-looking strangers waiting for them to finish up.

But—she... Ugh.

"Of course, I'm coming in," he was proud of how he avoided stumbling over the words. "I'm just waiting for you to get in the water so I don't catch sight of anything... Unpleasant."

  Kosha's indignant little scoff didn't surprise him.

  "Hey man, I get you're used to big-breasted women and that kind of shit, but at least appreciate my _lower half,_ " she punctuated the words by dropping and stepping out of both layers of trousers after kicking off her boots. Bilbo's eyes went wide and he quickly found interest in the gentle sloshing of the stream. Despite his eyes flying elsewhere, Kosha continued, "I should kick you in the damn throat with how much weight I gained because of how hobbits eat on the regular." A little splash, a hiss, then a disturbance in the stream as Kosha tested the water. Good, she was getting on with it. "I'm lucky I can still fit those jeans." She paused, then said, sharply, "Barely."

   Bilbo caught himself muttering, "It isn't my fault all of it went straight to your legs."

  "Different food finds different places to fill, babe."

"I would appreciate it if we stopped talking about this, thank you."

Kosha conceded with a snort and a shrug, finding the mercy within herself to drop the subject and wade a little further into the water before giving in to a violent shudder. "Damn it's cold!"

"If you have embarrassing me throughout this entire— _thing_ — on your list of reckless goals, I would be very thankful if you kindly scribbled it out and forgot about it, thank you!"

   Kosha, now lowered to her thighs in the stream and bravely attempting to get the rest of her to adjust by splashing whatever else wasn't submerged with the lazily running water, looked at him like she had no idea what she was talking about. The nerve!

   "Don't look at me like that!" He couldn't help but cross his arms—a subtle plea for her to do the same, the woman understandably didn't get it, of course, and  kept her chest shamelessly exposed. "You know exactly what I'm talking about!"

  "No, I don't," she deapanned. And there was a second or two where Bilbo debated on spelling it out to her. But soon, understanding seeped into her expression and she looked to have realized what he meant after a slight delay. Or, at the very least, what she thought he meant.

  "Is me bein' naked bothering you that much?"

  Was it?

  Yes. Definitely.

   He wouldn't deny that he was very much uncomfortable with the current situation. Kosha was only a few feet away, as bare as she was the day she was born, insisting he appreciate her curves. And he was standing there listening to her like some kind of fool instead of voicing his discomfort like any sane being should.

   And it was cold—not enough to bite, but enough to have coming out of that icy water alone make you regret your life's choices. Besides the obvious concern over what was happening that very moment, he was debating whether or not he wanted to brave the chill of that water anyway.

  He pinched his chin between two stiff fingers, "No... Um... Y-yes, actually—yes." Kosha perked up at his answer, Bilbo was steadfast with keeping his eyes on her face. "But that isn't what I meant. You—You are a very forward woman. And I understand that you have hardly any reservations about —" he gestured to all of her, "—this. I can... Understand some of what—"

"Bilbo Baggins," Kosha interrupted gently, though there was a note of reprimand in the way she emphasized his surname. Bilbo couldn't help his surprise when the goading look on her face melted into something more open and understanding, and she turned around just enough to cast one arm over her breasts and not break eye contact. "I meant what I said about you standing guard. You ain't gotta come in..." She sucked in a breath, and lowered herself further into the water, and when she continued speaking, her voice came with the slight chattering of teeth, "I asked you to come with me for, like, a really stupid reason. But I'm sticking with it, because there ain't nothing wrong with being scared of shit that goes bump in the night."

  That was... vague. "What are you talking about?" Thankful for her sudden modesty, Bilbo was a little less strained.

  "You know, all that stuff about Goblins and Wargs n' shit. You heard those demon twins sayin' all that stuff about getting devil-rolled and torn apart. I need someone to watch my back in case some wild animal wants to sneak up on my ass. And all things considering, it's possible."

  "Demon twins?" Because that's all Bilbo could glean from everything Kosha just said.

Oh. Of course.

     Fili and Kili. They wouldn't hesitate to tease anyone about their "irrational" fears. While it was playful, by all meanings of the word, it still planted a little seed that you couldn't stop from sprouting into a gangly weed of paranoia. Bilbo should know. He was just on the receiving end of it not that long ago.

  "Yes, man! Now, if some kind of parasite or somethin' crawls up my urethra, that's my problem, my fault for even dipping a toe in this water. What I have you out here for, is to make sure nothing comes at me while I have my head dunked. I really need to wash my hair right now..."

"Of all people, you thought I," Bilbo deadpanned, "A hobbit of the ever peaceful Shire, who can hardly wield a kitchen knife in his defense, would have the ability to protect you from a hypothetical bear or wolf—"

Kosha snapped her fingers as if he were a child who'd drifted off during a lengthy scolding, "Wargs, Bilbo. Keep track, boo boo!"

  "My point still stands, Kosha!"

He threw his arms up, indignant as Kosha continued to look at him as if that weren't even the issue, and seated himself on a rock. It was the biggest amongst the lot scattered across the bank, and if this conversation was going where he thought it was, he might as well make himself comfortable.

  "Whatever!" Kosha huffed, then submerged herself to her shoulders with a yelp, preparational splashing be damned. She didn't bother with tracking Bilbo's transition to his newfound seat, and focused instead on the trembling of her knees as the freezing tendrils of this god forsaken stream wriggled into her very bones.

  Her head would be next.

   " _M–m–m–my_  point! Is—is that I am v–very comfortable around y...you!" And that was the truth.

   A chill ran down her spine, down into her toes, and back again.

   She didn't wait for Bilbo to respond, or for him to even make a noise of acknowledgement at her declaration. She just wanted to be done with this. So, not a moment later, her head was dunked beneath the water.

  She had to squat and bend at an awkward angle, as the stream was only  thigh high when she stood fully—so shallow as all hell, but she made it work. Her hair was as wet as she could get it when she resurfaced with a gasp.... And then she belatedly realized that she had neglected to remove the cornrows that led from her hairline into the jungle of curls at the back of her head. She groaned, but began to work on removing them anyway.

 

  Ugh... Now the _air_  was licking at her and harrowing her with shudders. If Bilbo had made any noise even resembling laughter at the time she would have cried "Injustice!" and would have felt the need to seek vengence. Well, more than she already did. Adding punting Bilbo across Eriador on that long list of retribution would only be a small addition. 

   The last braid came free, and she took a minute to run her fingers through her dirty tresses before dunking her entire body again.  
   
   She missed Bilbo's startled shout when the water surrounded her ears.  
  
  Something brushed against her shoulder, and of course she startled, but she didn't dare open her eyes under the water. It was safe to assume a leaf, or some stray moss had been the culprit. Because that's totally what it could be.

  Only it wasn't. Because whatever it was was solid, heavier than you would think a clump of moss would be... If moss even floated about in thigh-deep bodies of water.

   Kosha uncurled from her washing position and lifted her now hefty mass of hair from her eyes. The heavy thing was pressed hard against her legs now, basically using her as a buffer against the water trying to pull it further downstream, and Bilbo was shouting for her to get out of the water.

  This indeed worried the hell out of her, so she quickly wiped the water from her eyes, and waded a few steps away from the thing pressing against her, now exploring the possibility that it could be a dead animal.

   When she moved her hands from her face she wasn't expecting to be greeted with the sight of a person face down in the water.

  Kosha did the first thing that came to mind.

    She screamed bloody murder.

   The shrill sound echoed all around them im the open air, and most definitely had to have reached the camp's ears.

  Then sense returned to her.

  And she realized, that this person was wearing an outfit definitely not from Middle Earth. She'd learned early on that the natives didn't particularly find mangled booty shorts and tight-fitting tanktops very becoming or practical of any sort. It clicked almost immediately that this person hailed from the 21st century. Probably. Another victim of whatever the fuck was supposed to be going on. 

    And she was probably dead.

     Shit.

  Getting over her inital shock, Kosha sprung into action. With Bilbo's confused encouragement in the background, she managed to hook the body under her elbows and drag it to the edge of the bank, where Bilbo took no time at all to meet her.

   "She came splashing from out of nowhere!" He screeched, eyes wide and hands shaking as he made to tug at the unmoving body's arm. "I swear by the Green Lady, it was like she'd popped out from the streambed!"

  Kosha wasn't sure if she heard that right, the blood was pounding so hard and so loud in her ears.

   The two of them wrestled with the body until it was fully out of the water and on its back. Kosha's heart began jackrabbiting in her chest at an uncomfortable speed when the only reaction from the poor soul was a lolling of the head. Just the idea of this girl dying because of—What? Her negligence— had her reeling.

   "Ch-check if she's breathing!" Her voice came out breathless, near to shaking, and she couldn't blame it on the chill of the air running across her body.

    But Bilbo heard her just fine, hovering an ear over the pale lips and nose. At the same time, Kosha's trembling fingers searched for a pulse.

   It was faint, but there.

  Thank God.

  Her relief was short lived, however, when Bilbo moved into position with a practice she had only seen a few times before after declaring that the girl was definitely not breathing, and proceeded to tilt her head back.

   Pinch the nose. Lift the chin—

  There was rustling in the bushes, gutteral shouting, and then out from the foliage burst several dwarves, weapons drawn, ready to pounce on whoever dared interrupt Kosha and Bilbo's bathtime.

   Many of them paused when presented with the sight of the two of them hovering over what Kosha assumed was an unconscious teenager, and Bilbo attempting to revive said teenager.

   Thorin and Oin were the first to put away their weapons and approach them, the haste in their steps didn't go unnoticed.

   "What's happened here?" Oin inquired, kneeling beside Kosha and holding up his trumpet except expectantly. He watched with rapt attention as Bilbo began the compressions.

   The hobbit was busy, so it was up to Kosha to explain.

   "Bilbo said she came outta nowhere. Other than that I have no fuckin' idea." That was honestly the best she could do.

   It seemed to be enough for the growing crowd anyway, because that tiny explanation alone sparked a cacophony of worried mumbling.  
    
    Seconds later, the girl was hacking up mouthfuls of water and the tension in everyone's shoulders relaxed simultaneously. Oin and Kosha rolled the girl onto her side as she coughed— and Bilbo, with a punched out sigh, sat back on his heels.

  Everything was fine now. No one was dead.

  "With the amount of water she's coughin' up, we're not out of the woods yet," said Oin, "We need to get her wrapped up by the fire, and some hot broth in her belly."

  —Yet.

   After only a moment's hesitation, Thorin was quick with the orders. Dwalin assisted their resident doctor with hefting the now incoherently babbling girl back to camp, Bombur and Bifur were sent ahead to prepare dinner early, and everyone else was told to set up any accomodations they could for the resting period. 

   "And you," he directed an icy stare in Kosha's direction. Songs and shanties could be written about how Kosha didn't wilt under the stern gaze. However, she did buckle a little when Thorin said to her, "Cover your decency with some clothes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because why wouldn't Bilbo know CPR?


	14. New Addition and  Faulty Subtraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way too fucking long. I didn't think the things that killed me could kill me like they did.

   She didn't notice it at first—no, not when she was rushing to put her clothes on and check on that poor girl who was as bedraggled as a half-drowned puppy—bad comparison—  but Gandalf was gone.

   Their wizard had upped and disappeared, a third of the Company was off searching for a potentially destroyed caravan or camp that Kosha tried to assure them didn't exist, and everything in their own campsite was near to chaos.

   Oin had called the order, which Thorin translated more harshly to get his people moving faster, to gather blankets, stoke the fire, get dinner going way earlier than anticipated. Honestly, the most Kosha could do was join in. So she did, and it was only until the girl's wet clothes were replaced with one of Dori's spare shirts and Kosha's trousers, she was bundled up enough with coats and blankets to fight off a goddamn blizzard—and she was pulled as close as they dared to the fire that everyone decided that maybe it was a good idea to take five.

  She was warm, and she was on her way to a belly full of hot food.

    The problem was the coughing.

   The fact that Oin was fraying his beard over this was even more troubling.

   The way Bilbo was pacing with nervousness was giving Kosha anxiety. He definitely noticed.

   "—Oh don't give me that look! You were there the last time something like this happened."

   Kosha couldn't dispute that, remembering in brutal detail how two youngsters having been goofing around carelessly around the Brandywine fell into the river—as a result of a bout of roughhousing, is what the eldest of the two had told them.

   The survivor.

  No, no. Kosha couldn't dispute that.

  Kosha wasn't there for the initial rescue, Bilbo had been though—one of his daily and randomly coordianted commutes had stipulated following The Water towards the bridge, walking upriver, and discovering an entire family of hobbits— who had only wanted to take a little walk, maybe have a picnic and spend a little time being slightly adventurous— screaming their heads off and running over each other in a panic. Help hadn't been far off by then, but only one of the children had made it. The one that passed had died in his bed later that night. Dry-drowning, apparently.  She'd never heard of that happening to anybody before.

  Kosha hadn't seen Bilbo so distraught in her entire two years of living with him.

  So she couldn't at all deny him by giving him her ire for something as simple as worrying.

  "We're all stressed out," she doesn't argue, but decided that a little guilting him would at the very least get him to sit with her on the leftover bundles of fabric she'd scrounged from someone's repair kit (they'd give her shit for that later, but they'd stolen her bedroll so what-the-fuck-ever), "Pacin' a hallway into the dirt ain't gonna help anybody. We just havetuh keep an eye on her. Because—y'know—just in case—"

  "Don't." He fixed her with a glare. That,  and his tone, had her raising her eyebrows. She forgot too easily that Bilbo had a temper of his own, especially when it came to sensitive things like this.

   "Don't you dare say what I think you're going to say."

   She thought about retorting with one of her many smartass remarks, but in the end, it wasn't the right time for being crude. So she shut up and motioned as if she were actually zipping her lips closed before returning to her default of sitting heavily on the log, arms scrossed.

   Bilbo didn't make to sit down with her even once.

* * *

 

  At some point, through the lull in activity that came to be when the search party had returned, the girl had ceased her coughing just long enough to wake up nice and proper. With bleary, unfocused eyes and a voice similar in texture to sandpaper, she had revealed that her name was Daisy, and that she had come from "24th street, the tan house with the black shingling, in Liverpool, England."

   She said nothing else, it had probably taken too much strength.

  When they tried to feed her, she couldn't keep it down, and she hacked and coughed until she coud barely muster enough breath in her lungs to do * _that_ * anymore.

   She came up feverish just as the sun began to set.

   Sometime in the night just as Bofur was taking his shift to keep an eye on her condition, he discovered her to be unresponsive to his prompting during the mandatory check-in.

  Daisy had died in her sleep.

* * *

 

   Clouds were gathering in the sky, the smell of petrichor so heavy in the air that you could practically taste it. Kosha suspected that rain would be an unwelcome tag-along for some of the journey. It was as cliche as things could get.

   Lily was anxious. When they paused in the middle of the road to welcome Gandalf back into the group—'welcome' is being used loosely—it was difficult to not note her fidgeting—i.e. the aggressive pawing at the dirt, kicking up dust and snorting her feelings out.  And that made Kosha want to fidget, maybe even take a leaf from Lily's book and be vocal about it.  Animals knew shit.  They had those kinds of instincts that even an inexperienced individual such as her would take note of if she paid attention. Part of her wanted to say that it was the potential thunderstorm that was causing her horse distress, but the other part acknowledged that it might be due to all of them being tense one way or another.

As said previously, animals could sense shit. And it wasn't like someone hadn't just died on all of their watch only two days ago. Someone who could have easily been saved.

   That's what Kosha and Bilbo wanted to think, anyways. Bilbo in particular felt it justified to beat himself up about it. The death itself had shaken everyone, and Gandalf himself had grown pale when the story was relayed to him as soon as rigid pleasantries were done being exchanged.

  "You could have helped her," Bilbo grit out after one of the stronger and more strained pauses mid-conversation. He, good ole' Mister Baggins, usually the sass master where it counted, often times aiming it directly below Gandalf's belt, but still cowed at the slightest bit of aggressive retaliation, had muttered this passed crossed arms and a downturned nose, "But," then he lifted his head and his voice got a little louder, Myrtle was getting twitchy, "You were off doing who knows what out who knows where—"

   "Leave it—" Thorin had cut in before anyone else could, before Kosha could lose her patience and snap at the poor creature—much to everyone's surprise, "There is nothing we can do about it now." And it was in that same solemn and uncaring tone that he added, "Let us move on."

   No one argued. Bilbo, however was quick to look in Kosha's direction, perhaps for backup, but it was apparent she would provide none. Before they could make eye contact, her eyes had shifted off into the direction of a nearby tree.

  The downpour came not shortly after. 

* * *

 

   By the time they had reached their next stop, Bilbo had begun to grate on everyone's nerves, and Kosha had been quiet for an unusually long stretch of time, also grating on everyone's nerves.

  And most notably, neither of them were speaking to each other.

   It wasn't like either were angry with the other (hopefully). And it's not like Bilbo had out of the blue grew a pair and began loudmouthing to everyone who dared get close for the simple reason that he was annoyed.

   But, as it seems, it was _because_ of Kosha's sudden and out-of-nowhere reclusiveness that triggered this change. When the woman suddenly got quiet, Bilbo became agitated, and all Kosha could do in response was to hide behind her hair and tuck her tail between her legs when Bilbo so much as glanced in her direction. For some reason she was fearful of the hobbit, or his ire, at least.

  During the past few nights, Bilbo slept apart from her, apart from all of them and the safety of the fire. His responses to Fili and Kili's attempts at lightening the mood largely consisted of a hard silence and maybe even an intense glare. He didn't even rise to any of Bofur's playful jabs about the annoyances of being spoken for by the opposite sex. _C_ _an't live with 'em, can't live without 'em._ Overall, their burglar had transformed into an unpleasant, despondent boor.

  Frankly, it was irksome.

  Frankly, Thorin wanted this stage of the journey to be over and done with. Or, the two tag-alongs could turn around and return home. He had no time for the emotional shock of their first corpse being thrust into their faces. He had a mountain to reclaim, a Company to keep in line. The burglar and his One shouldn't have been his concern.   
    
   But of course they were. It was only natural for him at this point to appoint Balin to keep an eye on them. And when he received a raised eyebrow and a slow inquiry about whether Thorin was true to his values when asking the other dwarf do do something such as this, Thorin deflected Balin's concerned look with claims of distrust in a defensive jumble of sentences that barely teetered upon gormless.

Besides, Balin was more attentive than he.  It only proved true when Balin made to point out the flawed logic, noticed the look on Thorin's face, thought better of it, and instead took him gently by the shoulder to lean in and say, "Don't you think it would be better if we left them alone for now?"

   Thorin could definitely answer that question, but it took him too many seconds to articulate his response, because then Balin continued, "If I know anything, it's that they are grieving for that girl, and if it doesn't get in the way of the journey, it shouldn't be your concern, should it, laddie?"

But Thorin _was_ concerned, and that was the problem.

  "I do not need you to speak to me as if I were a child."

   "That is exactly what a child would say!" Balin joked, laughter crinkling his eyes.

   "Heed that I am older than you." Thorin said, only half serious—completely serious to the naive and inexperienced eye, but Balin knew Thorin better than that.

   "You can interfere when it slows us down."

   "Soon enough then..." Was all Thorin said before he allowed Balin to leave with his Get out of Jail Pass. Though his intentions for talking him out of his decision to _spy_ on the moody pair remained obvious, Thorin had a sound enough mind to realize that the other was, in fact, right. He had no place meddling in their personal affairs, but as he had said, he would only do so if it was required of him.

   He knew what it was like to mourn for those you wanted to save but couldn't. Even if the deceased had been people he hadn't known personally, the pain was just as raw and tangible as if he'd lost a  loved one, and plenty of those had joined their creator in his realm over the years. It got easier, but it would take time, and no small amount of effort to find comfort in the fact that, while it may seem like you could've done something, it was out of your hands the entire time.

  He watched on as Bilbo helped Bofur with the kindling for the fire, and Kosha assisted Bombur with constructing the spit and placing the pot for their latest dishing of travel slop. He watched as they passed each other, and barely even shared a glance when Kosha had accidentally hip-checked the side of Bilbo's head.

  And as he watched, he worried for them.

   He worried for the already spoken-for hobbit and his already spoken-for Southron Woman.

   Does he not know shame? 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Charcoal Black Super](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13737435) by [OneTrueCombo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneTrueCombo/pseuds/OneTrueCombo)




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